


A Dance with Death

by sunrisesetting



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Dancer! Reader, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Outlaw! Reader, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader has past-inflicted issues in general, Reader has trust issues, Slow Burn, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrisesetting/pseuds/sunrisesetting
Summary: Memories you'd rather forget. Memories you can't recall. You can't shake the feeling they're connected somehow.After living a life of hardship, you turn to doing other people's dirty work as a way to make coin.When the First Order makes you an offer you can't refuse, you prepare for your final performance without considering that, for one reason or another, you may later decide that your life is worth living after all.





	1. The First Snow

**Chapter One:** The First Snow

You do not like your crew opposing direct orders.

* * *

 

“Is this the place?”

A breath of condensation escaped from between your parted lips as you adjusted the worn-and-torn muffler around your neck.

“I’m certain of it, master.” Came the reply, the tall nautolan double-checking the co-ordinates on his comm once more and confirming the information with a curt nod.

You return it, and reach for your own comm buried in your pocket. Once in hand, you hold in one of the buttons on the side and bring it to your ear. It was an old model – greatly outdated for sure – but it did the job. As an added bonus, it was difficult to track – something invaluable in your line of work.

The ringer’s buzzing is abruptly cut short, and you hear a voice answer on the other end.

_“Commander l/n!”_

“Ah – Levi. Good, you answered.”

_“…Why wouldn’t I, boss?”_

The voice is accompanied by nervous laughter.

“Well you haven’t exactly been making yourself available to us lately for one.”

Despite the sharpness of your voice, your criticisms are hollow – you have no desire to argue with your subordinate right now.

_“Aha… Sorry about that, boss, you know how things…are lately.”_

You swallow. You do not need a reminder of how the war has escalated as of late – you have seen it first-hand. More than ever, smuggling jobs have been streaming in left, right and centre ever since the First Order began construction of a so-called ‘deadly weapon.’

 _“Death Star the Second._ ” they called it; the staff seeking refuge from the conflict they had unknowingly signed themselves to be a part of. Good people – wrong side.

 _Apparent_ wrong side.

You, of course, had no opinion of either side. It was bad for business; reduced the amount of jobs you’d receive. There was that, and the painstakingly obvious fact that it was war which had led you to live how you live now. It wasn’t by choice, per say, that you decided to dirty your hands for others. Just one circumstance which led to another, until it became the best choice for someone in your situation.

“I understand. Regardless, I’m going to need you to make yourself…present…at my next meeting.”

You mulled your choice of words over, hoping Levi caught the intention behind them. A snort sounds down the comm accompanied by a whisper of static, and you can’t help but crack a smirk.

 _“Gee boss, you really have a way with words, don’tcha?”_ Levi seems to consider his options, but ultimately decides that it is a command he ultimately cannot refute. 

_“Gotcha. I’ll be there.”_

“Great. I’m counting on you.”

As you’re about to cut off the call, Levi interjects quickly.

_“Ah – but what about Kiirin? Should I take her with me or…?”_

You pause.

Damn it. You had forgotten all about the young togruta. You had left her in Levi’s care whilst you and Duu Yan had taken care of the missions left on your tab for this month. You bring your thumb between your teeth and bite down on the nail in consideration.

Surely it was much too risky to bring the child along on such a dangerous meeting? Then again…

“Take her with you. It may prove to be a valuable learning experience.”

“B-But master… She is only a child!” Duu Yan leans in from behind you to protest, obviously picking up on what the conversation between you and Levi had entailed.

Levi also protests.

_“I don’t mean to question your methods per say, commander… But with all due respect, if you’re meeting with a client from the group I think you are, then I’m certain they won’t hesitate to take hostages to have you do their bidding.”_

Duu Yan rarely voiced his concerns about orders – he just carried them out with no hesitation. He ‘d much rather let you make the mistake and then chastise you for it later. And so, you consider his rarely expressed opinions as pearls of wisdom to be mulled over carefully.

On the other hand, Levi was unrulier, and would outright act against commands if he felt his way was more beneficial. This meant that whether you heeded Duu Yan’s warnings or not, Levi would probably leave the child behind anyways.

You sigh aloud in contemplation. Why did your crew have to be so obstreperous?

“I understand and hear your concerns but I see no better option available.”

Duu Yan opened his mouth to offer suggestion, but you shut his thought process down before it can unravel further.

“If we leave her somewhere and something goes wrong, then what? Nowhere is safe from the clutches of war anymore. There is no guarantee that the First Order will make us a fair deal either.”

As you muse the situation aloud and weigh your options, you are encouraged by your original decision further.

“No, my original order still stands. Bring Kiirin along with you and make sure she does not leave the ship until the meeting is over. Is this understood?”

_“…”_

“Levi, is this understood?” You repeat, your voice taking the firm tone of a respected authoritarian.

“ _Yes, commander… I understand.”_

Wanting to end the dispute as quickly as possible, your finger slips off the call trigger and you shove the comm roughly back into your pocket, signalling with a shift of your head for Duu Yan to follow.

You take in your destination – a shabby plaster-built house with a smashed front window. The frigid air stirring behind you caught your scarf on the breeze and it fluttered wildly in the wind as you strode out of the shelter of the trees.

As you drew your sword from the sheathe at your side, the first snow you had seen that year began to gently fall on the blood-soaked plains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!  
> This is my first time writing for the Star Wars fandom so there may be some room for discrepancies between canon and the fic, but hey, it's fanfiction after all. I hope you will enjoy nonetheless!
> 
> -sunrisesetting
> 
> PS. I will try to update every two days or so!


	2. A Done Deal

**Chapter Two:** A Done Deal

You finally get your hands on the treasure you had long been searching for.

* * *

 

“It’s finished.”

A pen drive slides across the uneven wooden counter until it is swiped up by the kubaz sitting at the far end.

“You work fast.” It answers, in a hushed tone as though attempting to avoid drawing attention to the two of you.

“Appreciation doesn’t justify the job, sir. You got what I wanted, yeah?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion as the smell of piled-up bodies seems to revive itself in your nostrils at nothing more than the very mention of the job.

The kubaz seems to watch you with scrutiny behind rusted goggles. Slowly – perhaps even reluctantly – he nods and lifts a small, tattered sack from the floor beneath his stool, and slides it in your direction.

You intercept it, never allowing your eyes to leave his as you feel around for the contents. You smirk when your hand makes contact with a smooth rock, and you finally gaze down into the sack to admire it.

This was it…!

The final piece you needed - a kyber crystal.

“I take it we’re done here then?” The kubaz’s voice draws you back into the conversation and away from your thoughts. “There’s a lot more…sympathisers…around here than before. I don’t want to be caught making a deal with you when they come in.”

You scoff, cutting your head to the side as you take in the filthy creature’s comment.

“ _Me?_ You don’t want to be caught with _me_?” You watch as he shifts uncomfortably as you take the offense, scrambling to find something amidst his cloak.

“Who do you think said ‘sympathisers’ will take out first, huh?” You raise your hand in gesture for him to answer, but when he does not, you prompt; “The one who slaughtered a village of Rebellion supporters or the one who _somehow_ got his hands on a kyber crystal?”

He begins to tremble so violently that you can hear the metal stool rattle beneath him. Finally finding what he was looking for amongst his robe pockets, he pulls a rusted blaster on you. You cast a gaze to the end of the weapon, then over the tavern around you, noticing the occasional stare in your direction. Shit.

“I’ve gone too far…” You mutter to yourself, sighing and pulling the drawstrings on the sack before pocketing it away safely. You lean back from your overbearing position and he lowers the weapon slightly in response.

“Business is business after all. You can’t complain about a done deal now.” You raise your elbows from the counter where they had been resting and lean back in a long stretch.

“J-Just… Just get out of here. And leave me out of what...what…” His eyes flit nervously from side to side in search of the words to continue. “Whatever business you have with ‘that!’”

A crooked finger gestures to the pocket where the kyber crystal was now stowed away. You smile in his direction, but turn to walk away, leaving him to bite the dust of the trail you would leave straight to him.

“Ciao.” You sing song, raising a hand without looking back as a farewell, before stepping out the door and back into the badlands once more.

 


	3. General

**Chapter Three:** General

You and Levi partake in games of equal challenge.

* * *

 

“Are you in position?”

_“Yeah. You should be able to see me from where you are now… Turn a little more… There you go.”_

Levi raises a hand discreetly in greeting from his seat at the dejarik table, disguising it as a scratch of his head. Beside him, Duu Yan prompts him with a nudge that it is his turn to play – which he does. You watch as he tries to counter the opponent – a thuggish looking man – with a defensive tactic. You sigh through your nostrils. Levi played dejarik the exact same way every time. You didn’t need a close-up view to tell how the match was going.

“Offensive plays, Levi. You need to use those too.”

You watch his expression contort into at first, confusion, and then into understanding, as he counters the opponents push forward with a forward push of his own. A grateful pair of eyes meet yours and you stifle a snort.

“Is something amusing you, commander?”

A voice interjects your conversation of facial expressions with your pilot.

“No sire, nothing at all.”

You turn to meet the man head on, and throw your hand out somewhat sloppily for him to shake. He hesitates before doing so, with a firm grip and a purposeful nod. You plaster your best business smile onto your face.

“Shall we take a seat, general?” You offer.

Before he can offer an answer, you sit down in the booth nearest you in the back corner of the room. As he slides into the seating across from you, you decide to set the bait.

“Or should I say…lieutenant?”

He flinches at your words and seems to clam up, cocking a nervous grin in response.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, _assassin_.”

Ooh. Looks like you hit right on the mark.

“Really? Do you want me to explain it for you?” You say.

“I don’t think there is much to explain, _girl_.” His behaviour resembles the playstyle of the dejarik thug you had watched Levi play – aiming in random places and hoping to hit the mark. Seeing as ‘assassin’ didn’t rile you up in the way he had hoped it would, he folds his hand and redraws, taking up a sharper offence than before.

It is not enough.

“Suspicious clothing.” You raise a finger from your closed fist.

The man looks down at his garish robes and sweat begins to bead on his forehead. Clearly, he believed he had nailed the disguise.

“Bodyguards.” You raise another.

The two men onlooking your meeting from the shadows flinch – exposing themselves slightly from the shielding of the ceiling-to-floor velvet curtains. One sets his blaster from stun to kill.

“Earpiece.” You parade your three raised fingers before him, as he slinks deeper into his seat in defeat.

“Would you like me to continue?” You coo, but the man only swallows what is left of his pride with a shake of his head.

He leans over the table towards you, as though unwilling to spend any longer than necessary with you, but you do not allow him to speak. Instead, you pluck the transparent comm earpiece from his right ear and insert it into yours, holding a finger over it in attempt to hear over the bustle of the cantina.

“Testing… Testing… One, two, one, two.” You begin, and when you hear muffled talking down the line between two people, you smirk.

“I’d have to say I’m greatly disappointed, general… And here I was, thinking we’d finally meet in person.”

_“…You killed him then, did you?”_

The response is curt and tone not quite as raw as the question itself.

“Who? The _lieutenant_?” You give a wry laugh in response. “No. He’s alive and well. I might just buy him a pint depending on how _this_ goes, sir.”

The lieutenant squirms under your playful glare, and you force yourself to look away. You know you will be unable to stifle your laughter at the older man’s pathetic fear much longer. Instead, you throw your free arm over the back of the booth and watch Levi’s still ongoing dejarik match with lukewarm interest.

_“No. Go ahead and kill him. We have no need for failures in the First Order, **commander**.”_

So that’s how he’s going to play, huh? You can’t contain a derisive smirk from playing onto your lips.

You trade gazes with Levi, who continues to hold his guise as a humble gambler even as he watches over your meeting as you requested.

“Ha ha, I’d almost say that comment was directed at _me_ , general. Seems you’ve already decided on offering us temporary employment, then.”

Duu Yan advises Levi through a whisper of his next move, and Levi smirks, taking the opponent’s ghhhk down with his ng’ok.

_“’Us,’ commander? Who exactly is ‘us’? I only ever recall requesting your presence alone.”_

The man begins to move his pieces into a defensive formation in response.

 “My crew, sir. You cannot expect me to complete such a risky mission without them, surely?”

The question is rhetorical – you do not care about his answer. Regardless of his expectations of you, if you could not secure a position for your team, you would not take the job.

_“…And how can you be so sure that our objective involving you is risky? I did not hear the lieutenant offer you any details.”_

Levi carefully mulls over his next move. His eyes flash from piece-to-piece in silent consideration, before he moves his monnok one step closer to the man in offering.

“Really? I thought it would be obvious that _any_ mission offered by the First Order’s general Hux to _outsiders_ would be one where even he cannot afford to use his disposable assets.”

The man vibrates – seemingly with laughter, but you cannot quite tell from afar – and you can just about see him lay claim to the sacrificial monnok, leaving a wide opening in whatever defensive set-up he had going.

_“You are most certainly cunning, commander, I give you that.”_ He pauses for thought, then continues. _“I can confirm your suspicions; however, I am sure you are already aware that the Order will pay in proportion to said ‘risk.’”_

Levi puts on his best poker face. He moves whatever piece he has on the far left to the far right, laying claim to the man’s houjix and wedging it right in the middle of his final two pieces.

_“Check.”_

His voice sounds down your own comm, still wedged in your other ear.

“Yes, I’m aware that the Order is nothing short of funds, general.” You allow your thoughts to momentarily stray back to the last group you had smuggled from the Order, and the tales of the death contraption they were erecting on a distant snowfield.

“However… I’m looking for something else in addition to said funds.”

The man is about to move his own monnok, but falters. He considers the board once more, and more confidently moves the piece this time.

You can hear Levi’s dry laugh in the form of hushed static. He commands his k’lor’slug from his corner of the board to the center ground. More firmly than last time, he declares;

_“Check.”_

_“Really? And what could a criminal like you possibly desire that you cannot attain yourself, especially knowing how **generously** you will be paid for your services.”_

The man’s hands hover at his side as he whips his head around the board in disbelief. Surely, there must be a way, right? And then he notices it – Levi has left himself wide open. The man regains itself and he takes up a more confident posture. He moves the monnok again, and amongst the static in the comm, you can faintly hear him declare; _“Check.”_

“Resources – Food. Weapons. Medical supplies. You know the deal.” You can hear the man scoff on the other end of the call, but despite this, you know he is considering your offer all the same. “I have a very… _special_ … cause in mind for those funds.”

Levi leans back on his chair for a moment, before throwing his head forward and rolling his neck. You can hear it crack twice in the form of static rumbling. You turn around, already knowing his final move.

The booth before you is empty - the lieutenant long gone.

The general does not respond to you directly – seemingly occupied in arguing with the same party from earlier – and so you decide to reiterate for him;

“The funds and the resources, Hux…and you can consider the senator _dead_.”

Levi moves his k’lor’slug one for the final time, planting it firmly in the corner of his opponent’s side of the board. The man rises to his feet and you can hear the squeal of the stool without the need for your comm.

_“Checkmate.”_

The general contemplates your added words for a moment, obviously astounded that you were even on the same page. What could you say? Information travels fast these days. Even faster when you have Order affiliates hiring your services, expressing their distaste for the ishi tib senator who had abruptly pulled all support for the organisation in fear of facing rebuke from others. You were probably more clued in on the issue than he was.

_“Alright, commander. You have yourself a deal.”_

“Checkmate.” You tell yourself mentally, rising from the booth to reunite with your victorious crew members who are currently trying to avoid a fight with their opponent.

_“Keep that comm – I will contact you with further details later.”_ The general adds, as you bring your sword’s sheathe down hard on the back of the man’s head. You hear the bar tender groan in a language you do not understand, and he shakes his head in distaste.

You look between Levi and Duu Yan with a cocky smirk, and they return the expression, tailing you as you make for the exit. You tip the bar tender for his troubles on your way out.

“Alright, I will. Pleasure doing business with you, general.”

_“Oh **no** , commander. The pleasure is all **mine**.”_

As the comm cuts off, you remove it from your ear and spin it between your fingers before pocketing it away.

“It seems that things are about to get interesting…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know how to play actual chess but I have no idea which piece is which in Dejarik...   
> Everything I wrote I tried to keep as vague as possible to reduce errors, so please overlook it, aha!


	4. Viennese Waltz

**Chapter Four: Viennese Waltz**

Sometimes you bite off more than you can chew.

Sometimes that bite costs you a trip to the medbay.

* * *

 

“Youngster, have you cleaned that area yet? The tiles are still wet.”

You look up from polishing the plaza tile floor, wiping both your hands with your rag and clambering to your feet. The elder figure looked down at you, offering a small nod of his head towards the corridor around the corner.

“Ah! I’ll do it now, sir!”

You rush past him, bare feet sliding slightly on the newly polished tiles as you grind to a temporary halt to offer a small bow before continuing on your way. You were certain you had cleaned that corridor first thing that morning, but who were you to argue?

You blinked in disbelief when the soles of your feet treaded the damp underfoot. He really was telling the truth! Had someone spilled something?

A loud shout gathers your attention. You glance towards it out through the gaps in the pillars on the open side of the corridor, and got the answer you craved – a water fight.

The older kids were laughing loudly as one sprayed them with the hose used to wash the masters’ ships. If they were found out…they would be dead for sure. Still, you couldn’t help but smile and look on with envy.

_That looks like fun…_

Wait, no! What were you thinking about!?

You shook your head wildly and slapped your cheeks hard with tiny palms. You needed to focus! There was no time to get distracted – the masters were having _guests_ over later.

With an overexaggerated sigh, you tucked your polishing rag into a loop in your slightly-oversized shorts. You readjusted those too, pulling them above your knees only for them to fall over them again. Well, never mind then. You returned around the corridor to where you had been polishing and drew several cloths from your rucksack.

Overlooking the mess before you, you couldn’t help but tremble a little with excitement. Your job was to clean, sure, but who said you couldn’t have your _own_ fun whilst doing it?

You skipped down the corridor to the areas which had not been sheltered from the soaking by the pillars, dropping a cloth or two into each puddle. When you reached the other end of the corridor, you looked from cloth to cloth, planning the best course of action. And then, when it came to you, you shut your eyes and began, surrendering yourself to an imaginary tune that you alone could hear.

One - one foot on cloth one and slide outwards. Raise arm.

Two - other foot to cloth two and slide inwards. Twirl.

Three - foot to cloth three. Foot to cloth four. Raise arm. Pirouette.

Losing yourself in the dance, you hadn’t realised that by now, you had long since soaked up the mess and were only swaying aimlessly from cloth to cloth in a silent, lonely performance.

You did not notice the audience of two who had been watching all along until it was too late.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Master, we’ve arrived. Please wake up.”

You groan as a firm hand gently rocks your shoulder, stirring you from your dream and back to reality. You open your eyes – only to immediately narrow them due to the lighting – and meet Duu Yan’s somewhat anxious gaze.

“…What?” Your voice comes out in a low-pitched tone; your body still trying to wake itself up from such a deep slumber.

Duu Yan’s eyes search your face, before he looks away entirely and shifts from your side to seize a book from the table before you. He opens it and flicks through it with little interest; it is merely a tool to avoid having to meet your eyes while he talks.

It did not surprise you in the slightest – it was his nervous habit after all. Any time he had a question he deemed too personal, or a topic of conversation he was uncertain if it were appropriate, he would hide away behind anything he could find while he spoke. And so, you waited for today’s enquiry.

“Did you…” His line of sight flutters briefly above the surface of the book to your own, before retreating to the material again. “Have a pleasant dream, master?”

You stared at the cover of the book hard - ‘Shii’ik’s Guide to Weapon Construction’ – and considered his question carefully. Did you even have a dream? The harder you thought about it, the further and less tangible the memory became. You slid out of the booth and placed both hands behind you on the table so that you could lean on it at Duu Yan’s side.

“I don’t know. Why?”

Your eyes scanned the contents of the book; the pages open discussed thermal compression in blaster-type weapons in some detail. The entire time you spent glimpsing over the first passage, you felt Duu Yan’s watchful gaze from your side.

“If you can’t remember, then perhaps it was nothing… Forget I said anything.”

As he pressed both palms together on the cover to shut the book, you placed your own hand between the pages and jarred it open. Now he had you curious.

“No, please continue. Did I say something in my sleep?”

Duu Yan’s eyes were anywhere but your face, and finally, he plucked the book from your grasp and stowed it back on the shelf above the table. His hand lingered on it for a moment, as though contemplating telling you after all, but ultimately decided against it and headed for the door.

“Duu Yan!” You called, but to no avail.

You looked on as the door rose and fell again as he left you alone with only the mechanical whirr of the engines for company.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Duu Yan himself leaned against the closed door, looking out through the front window of the ship as it pulled into the docking bay of its destination.

The image of you gently snoozing arose again in his mind; your chin tucked away in your folded arms as you had dozed off reading once again. As a regular occurrence for the you who he had rarely seen actually using a bed, he’d thought nothing of it until he drew closer. That was when he noticed the sparkle of dew at the corners of your eyes.

“Mother…”

The small voice had caught him off guard, and he froze to look down at you, who suddenly looked vulnerable and lost. Slowly, as though any sudden movement would wake or break you, he wiped the tears away with the tip of his finger. Brushing the hair from your face, he watched your back rise and fall with each breath, and he stayed that way for a long moment.

“You came back… Mother…”

The voice came again as he went for the door, and as he glanced over his shoulder, he could see a small smile gracing your face. As the person he had been devotedly following for years, he thanked the Force or whoever had sent you such a pleasant dream before entering the cockpit to talk with Levi again.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You stared at the closed door for a moment, replaying Duu Yan’s response over in your head a few times.

You had spoken in your sleep before - often talking of things of little significance – however occasionally you would mention a name that you could only describe as being half-familiar. This was always unsurprising, though.

There was an aching crevice in your memory that began somewhere within your childhood and ended somewhere in your late teens. The memories felt so real – so tangible – and yet it seemed they were stored somewhere in your brain out of reach. You knew that they existed somewhere within you, as your late-night ramblings served evidence to the cause, yet awake you could recall nothing at all.

It didn’t particularly bother you as such. You were content with the life you had now, and the memories of your childhood that you still have are happy ones… mostly. Still, you could not deny that a part of you felt lacking without the memories to prove you had lived between the ages of 9 and 16.

You shook your head, as though to shake off your self-doubts along with it. Now was not the time for sentimentalities. You glanced back to the booth you had fallen asleep in and saw your new ‘toy’ still tucked away in the corner of the seat. You scooped it up with one hand, almost dropping it in the process, and slipped it through the loop on your belt. Something felt familiar about the action – a sense of déja vú perhaps – but you did not dwell on it. You held your hand in front of the sensory panel at the dormitory door and as it swept open, you stole Levi’s cloak from on top of his bed. He wouldn’t mind… Probably. You threw it over your clothes and tied it together at your chest, leaving the oversized hood to drape over your shoulders.  It was time to go and greet your latest client in person.

The first thing you noticed stepping off your ship was the stark contrast in temperature. Whilst your ship was always kept at a comfortable room temperature, the Finalizer was probably half that or worse. In short, it was freezing, and you were thankful for Levi’s cloak. Speaking of Levi…

“There’s my cloak!”

You froze, turning around on the ramp to meet your pilot face-to-face. His expression was one of discontent and mild humour.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t mind my using it. Mine is still… From the last mission…” You trailed off, unwilling to speak of the state it was in, but he seemed to understand. His face relaxed and he offered a warm smile.

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s pretty cold out here so it looks like you’ll need it more anyways.”

You hum in response, taking in the sights around you. Hundreds of people patrolled the docking bay in two distinct classes – the stormtroopers clad in immaculate white armour, and the tens of grey-collared workers who scurried to-and-fro with datapads clutched in hand. Somehow it amused you, and you couldn’t help but let out a _pfft_ of distaste.

“Is something amusing you, commander?”

You froze, not moving your body and only your eyes to meet the man standing before you with two workers at his side. His uniform was pristine and ginger hair slicked neatly, the image of professionalism. And yet…

“Does everyone in the First Order have to greet me like that? Haha, you’ll lead me to believe that _no one_ has a sense of humour aboard this ship, mister general sir.” You couldn’t hide the small grin as you thought back to last week’s meeting with the lieutenant.

“I would like to hope not, _miss commander l/n_. Everyone on this ship has a job and a purpose, and I would like to believe that you will not deter them from doing it.” His voice was cold and calculating, as though he were testing the waters. How far could he intimidate you?

None. The answer is none.

“I am not afraid of the consequences dealt by a man who sends a _lieutenant_ to impersonate them, and quite _poorly_ might I add.” You watch his face carefully, hoping to crack his poker face but to no avail. As you wait for his response, you take notice of something you had not previously considered within his spiel. This was not going to end well for you. You had taken his bait.

“You should be. For as long as you reside upon _my_ ship, you will act under _my_ orders as per our agreement. Is that understood?” He takes pride in this statement, a smug smirk practically begging to show upon his lips.

Levi stiffens beside you.

“You never mentioned we would be stationed here during the mission, boss?” Levi offers his comment in a questioning tone, although he himself probably already knows the answer. If you had of known, you would have told him.

“Neither did the general, Levi.” You do not let your eyes stray from the general’s, and the two of you glare at one another relentlessly. Without turning around, you add; “Leave us, Levi. Go and wake Kiirin – tell Duu Yan to give her the one-over and clear her for training later.”

Levi hesitates, considering whether leaving you alone right now is the best option. But his faith in your choice is unshaken, and so he responds with a “Got it” and returns aboard your ship. Now alone, you continue your conversation with the general.

“At what point were you going to make me aware of the conditions we would be operating in for this mission, general?” Your tone is icy. You are not pleased.

“Oh, I am certain we agreed it before, yes? During our little conversation in the tavern. What were your exact words, commander…? Ah, I do believe they were… ‘The funds and the resources and you can consider the senator dead.’” The smirk finally shows on his face. “Stationing you and your crew aboard _my ship_ gives you access to the resources you so _desperately_ need.”

You had fallen into his trap - hook, line and sinker.

What should you do? It was true that the resources provided aboard the ship would exceed the standards you were expecting to receive. It would also provide you with better training facilities, and most importantly, food. You mull the choice over very briefly. You cannot allow the general to believe he has a one-up on you.

And so you decide to fake a smirk, sigh aloud and offer a shrug.

“Alright general. We will station ourselves here for the time being, seeing as you’d struggle to keep tally on our every movement otherwise.” You remind him of how easily it would be for you and your crew to slip out of his grasp, hoping to make it appear as though you were doing _him_ a favour by staying.

“Glad to hear the favourable response, commander.” He maintains his smug expression, stepping over your tripwire comment easily. Well, there was nothing more you could do but milk the resources dry like a bantha whilst you still could.

“No, sir, the gratitude is all mine.” You let your smirk transition into your signature business smile. “Seeing as this is the case, I would like to be directed to the training facilities you have aboard.”

Finally, the general seemed to falter. Reluctance filled his being, from the now-grim expression he held to the stiffness of his limbs as he tightened them with discomfort.

“Somehow I do not feel that to be wise, commander. The only training room left unoccupied at this hour would be the facility belonging to the commander of this ship, Kylo Ren.” He spits the name as though it is venom upon his tongue.

The name rings a bell in your mind, and you think back to the last crowd you had escorted from the First Order to the Outer Rim.

_“And the commander…! He’s like the physical incarnation of death himself…!”_

_“I know, right!? I can’t tell you how many control panels I’ve had to repair because of him!”_

_“And that helmet! Have you ever seen what’s underneath it?”_

_“I heard he’s a unique species of alien thought to be extinct!”_

“Commander l/n?”

“Huh?” You lift your gaze from the pair of ships leaving the docking bay and back to the general. You hadn’t even realised you had been daydreaming.

“Ah, sorry. I got lost in my own thoughts for a moment.” You shift your eyes to the ships again, now becoming nothing more than specks on the horizon, before finding the resolve to confirm your decision. “I appreciate your _professional concern_ sir, but with all due respect, you should not offer resources that cannot be accessed, no?”

He scoffed.

The general had very visibly and undeniably scoffed right before your very eyes.

“Very well, commander. But do not say I did not warn you.” He indicates to the two ‘troopers who had previously been by his sides to return to him. “Take the commander to Ren’s training room.”

At the command, even the stormtroopers stiffened, clutching their blasters much tighter than before. It seemed that whoever this ‘Kylo Ren’ was, he certainly knew how to intimidate others.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, you followed the ‘troopers as they led you through one of the hatches in the hanger.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Every corridor looked the exact same – dull and durasteel as far as the eye could see. It was obvious that the appearance had been compromised for efficiency. Wherever the training facility was, it had to have been on the opposite end of the ship; you felt like you would be walking on for eternity.

Eventually, your brain got tired of taking in the sights and considering the humanitarian aspects of stormtroopers, and so it decided to once again take your thoughts back to what you knew about Kylo Ren. Albeit, not very much.

Perhaps it was because he was so intimidating that those you had spoken to within the First Order had never mentioned him prior to the last smuggling job you had. Even then, that had only been trivial gossip between grey-collared workers.

You did, however, know one truly interesting titbit about the man:

He owned a _lightsaber._

The stormtroopers came to a sudden halt outside a black door at the end of the corridor. They did not speak, but rather saluted you before taking off in the opposite direction again. There goes your hope of getting back to your ship without getting lost.

You glance down at the scanner. There was no way you were using that thing – the senate no longer had your ‘prints, so what made Hux think you’d give them to him? An idea springs to mind however, and you can’t help but tremble with excitement and anticipation. It had been over a week since the last time you had properly gotten to blow off some steam and swing a wooden sword around. But this time, it would not be a wooden sword.

You remove your ‘new toy’ from your belt and admire it, before slipping a finger over the activation plate and watching it flare to life. Green plasma sparks wildly as it violently _hisses_ in your direction. The thing looked like it could explode at any moment.

“So this is what a lightsaber looks like then? It’s a lot less tame than the drawings in the book.” You turn it over in your hand, admiring it from all angles. “Pity it’s green and not a much cooler colour… Like purple, or yellow, or red or something. Oh well.”

You decide it is time to test the blade you’d spent so long trying to construct out – Kylo Ren would understand right, as a fellow lightsaber user?

With one fell vertical slice, the metal melts into cinders down the partition with an orange glow. One kick is all it takes to knock back the unhinged half of the door unto the ground, and you clamber over it and into the training room.

It is as you would expect. Practice weapons aligned along one wall. Work out equipment down at the back. A large, practically empty black room with plenty of space for one to swing a weapon around in.

You notice the many dents and gashes in the seemingly-reinforced durasteel walls. You glance back to the door and flicker between it and the gashes in the wall. They were one and the same, confirming the prior knowledge you had on this Kylo fellow.

Well, who cares now. You grin.

It was time to see what this thing could _really_ do.

The blade is somewhat awkward to use at first – it weighs somewhere between a regular double-edged sword and the katana you were so used to wielding. Eventually finding the happy-medium, you find it no different than any other sword you have used before. Well, except for the fact that none of your other blades can _cut through durasteel_ or probably _explode on you_ during battle. You leap around the room, testing the boundaries of the ‘saber, closing your eyes and imagining the battlefield before you.

You find yourself getting lost in the rhythm of make-believe battle, twirling around the room with fancy footwork rivalled by none. It is as though you can hear the melody of battle in your head, and you clash your blade against another, pulling away to find your footing and striking with twice the intensity again.

It is only when you fell your lightsaber for the third time that you realise the footman you had been playing imaginary sword fighting with was actually before you, dressed in all black and pushing against your blade with one of the same fiery intensity in blood red.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear…” You think to yourself, grinning and swallowing down the sweat and spit that was gathering in your mouth. Your blade slides off of his and you stumble backwards, driving your heel into the ground to steady yourself. You could feel your whole body on edge with the thrill of battle and you couldn’t wait to get back into the scuffle.

Launching off of the same heel you’d steadied yourself with, the moment you lightsaber meets one his, you are counting the beats in your head.

One – thrust.

Two – retreat.

Three – strike.

You rinse and repeat with much success until he catches the sword out of your grip with the vents on the sides of his own ‘saber. You watch the green glow die out as the silver cylinder hits the floor and rolls out of reach below one of the weight press benches.

But this only drives the adrenaline running through your veins to a higher intensity.

It was a good thing the fight had numbed all concern for your life, as under no other circumstances would you attempt to disarm someone with a _lightsaber_ through hand-to-hand combat.

Your opponent clearly had little regard for your life also, as with every punch and kick you threw, they swung the red flame of their lightsaber closer and closer to your body. It didn’t frighten you at all – you were confident in your fighting abilities. You had taken down much bigger aliens unarmed and unscathed before, so this was no different if not much easier.

You bounced from foot-to-foot, as though beckoning the man to make his move. He does, but you dodge with a flip with relative ease. You can tell he is reaching his breaking point, frustration creeping in with every move you dodge. What could you say? You were agile and itching for a fight, there was no way you’d let it end in a loss.

Seeing your chance, he lowers his guard to strike you out of vexation and you kick the base of his ‘saber, knocking it out of his hand and sending it spiralling into the air until it falls and rolls to the opposite side of the room. You don’t watch what happens next, too occupied with throwing yourself along the ground to retrieve your own ‘saber. You retrieve it a moment too late – as you turn and ignite it once more, a red flash strikes your arm and sends you packing over the weight bench. You tumble backwards and end up upside down, back against the cold wall.

You watch as Kylo Ren looks down upon you from where he had struck you, emotionless behind the mask he wore but chest heaving with exertion. Your arm is on fire with pain. You glance towards it – thankfully, still attached – and with an outward kick, bring yourself to your feet again. Not yet. You wouldn’t let it end just yet.

You begin the same way as earlier, three beats in the death waltz as you relentlessly strike once more, ignoring the searing pain in your arm that _begged_ you to stop. Picking up on your pattern of attack, you see him attempt to disarm you once more and that’s when you change the pace.

One – thrust.

Two, three – strike.

Thrown off by the change in tempo, he stumbles backwards and you see your chance to rush him. You press on until his back will soon be amongst the practice weapons lined along the wall in neat rows. It was time to end it.

One – raise the blade.

Two, three – stri-

It all unfolds inside the next three beats of the viennese waltz you yourself had begun.

His fingers unfurling and palm outstretched towards you.

Your feet leaving the floor.

The sudden pain in your back and head.

The last thing you can recall before giving into the ebbing darkness is the ever-present searing in your right arm, reminding you that this man, Kylo Ren, had left his mark upon your body.

Perhaps that was what had hurt you the most; your now wounded pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the update delay! A few things came up this week and as you can see, this chapter is quite long! It took a while to write, but I hope it makes the extra wait worth it.
> 
> As shown in this chapter, y/n incorporates dance into her battle style which makes it difficult for others to understand and counter. I mean, footwork is pretty important in both swordplay and dancing!  
> I should mention about the viennese waltz; whilst a normal waltz is danced with equal space between three beats, the time between the second and third beat in a viennese waltz is much shorter, giving the impression of a slow-fast-fast movement! 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks also! I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Until next time!


	5. Scarred Pride

**Chapter Five: Scarred Pride**

You come to terms with your injury.

* * *

 

“You’re… You’re not my mother…”

A look of utter shock and disappointment rips away the tears that had just swayed your vision. The woman is uncertain of what to do, and so offers a smile and crouches down to speak to you face-to-face.

“I’m afraid not. Is your mother absent?” Her voice is soothing and gentle. It does not demand an answer of you, but instead seeks to offer reassurance and show her understanding of the mix-up.

You take one step backwards.

“No, she’s… She’s…”  You search for your voice to give a coherent answer, but it falters and you are left looking hopelessly lost. You swallow, taking another step backwards. “She’s just...”

You cannot disguise the conflicting emotions on your face, as mourning and hope go head-to-head, eventually the latter emerging victorious.

“She’ll be back for me one day!” Your voice arises as a shout, as though the dream required verbal confirmation. The woman does not look as hopeful as you do, and even though she attempts to mask it, you can see the grim look that crosses her eyes.

“Was it your mother who taught you how to dance?” Another voice asks this time, attempting to change the subject. You move your gaze from the woman to the man accompanying her.

His attire matched that of the residents in the temple. Was he a newcomer?

“Ah…” The noise escapes your throat subconsciously. They had been watching all along!

Stupid! Stupid! How could you have been so careless!

If the masters find out, you’ll be-

“We won’t tell. Right?” He addresses the woman, who nods in return, as though he had read your mind.

Then… That meant that he was the same as the masters!

The man laughs through his nose lightly, having been following your trail of thoughts, but this earns him a scowl and a light jab from his companion.

“It was really pretty. You have quite the talent!”

You bashfully smile, wriggling from foot-to-foot trying to hide your embarrassment. You had not danced for anyone since… Well, since your mother had left. The words felt strange to your ears – praise was not something that came so lightly in the temple. It was rare – exclusively assigned to the trainees, not some petty cleaner. Anything you did was met with another command, or not a word at all. After all, to them you were only doing the jobs you were assigned to do. And so, you never expected praise or thanks for anything, let alone your _dancing_.

“Th-Thanks…” You managed to find your voice and offer a response. You also weren’t used to people talking with you willingly. You were one of the youngest at the temple, if not _the_ youngest. The older kids didn’t really like to interact with anyone outside of their social groups, let alone a little kid carrying around rags and spinning to imaginary music. Not to mention you were different. And that they were all the same.

“My… My mom taught me… How to dance that is!” Thus you decided to test the waters with these folks. Maybe they’d listen to you? Hear what you had to say?

“Um… When I was little, I would watch my mom dance a lot. She was a really good dancer! Much better than me!” As you spoke, you could see your mother twirling on the practice stage before you, frills on her outfit flowing like water obeying her every movement. You hadn’t noticed the tender smile that formed at the memory. “When I’m older… No, whenever I get out of this place! I’m going to follow in her footsteps and become the best dancer anyone has ever seen!”

Your whole body had leapt forward at the declaration, fists forward and clenched in excitement. Realising your posture, you quickly apologized and stepped backwards. You had accidently gotten too passionate…! They’re surely thinking you’re crazy right now… Right?

But they had not moved. In fact, they were grinning at you with what seemed to be admiration.

“I think that’s a wonderful dream.” The woman replies, reaching down to brush away some stray hairs from your face.

The man opened his mouth to make a statement, but was interrupted by the sound of impatient footsteps coming from the end of the corridor.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit-!

You were totally for it now!

You quickly turned around to the mess of cloths still lying around the floor, and cast a quick glance in the footsteps’ direction. There was still time!

You lurched forwards and scrambled to gather the cloths, blanking out entirely your newfound companions. You couldn’t get in trouble for this again, you knew exactly what punishment you would get for it.

A scream of laughter catches your attention and you freeze. The older kids were still messing around with the hose! Oh man, they would totally be killed if they got caught! The masters would put them in solitude for at least a week minimum!

You looked down at the rag in your hand, then back towards the kids smiling and having fun. Your lip quivered but you took a deep breath and shook it off. You already knew what you had to do.

Dropping the rags, you skipped over the wall and approached through the bushes.

“The master is coming!” You hissed in the loudest whisper you could, anxiously glancing over your shoulder for signs it was too late. When no one acknowledged your warning, you began to panic. You stepped backwards, your foot brushing against a rock. It wasn’t ideal, but it was your only option now.

Lobbing the rock in the crowd’s general direction, they fell silent and looked towards you peeking out of the bushes. The ringleader, still with the hose in hand, looked as though they were about to give off but you silenced not only him but the entire group with a finger to your lip. Your eyes must have said it all, as they obeyed and you pointed a finger in the direction of the two people you had been speaking to earlier. Instantly understanding, everyone scattered as fast as they could, leaving you to scramble back over the wall.

In your haste, you tripped over the wall entirely, smacking your chin off of the cold tile as you landed in a heap. No time to complain about the terrible pain that throbbed, you gathered yourself up only in time for the master to find you surrounded by the rags you had failed to gather in time.

“Y/n! Rocks, now!”

Unable to do anything other than cradle your certainly-now-bruised chin, you meekly responded with a “Yes, master” and led yourself to your punishment.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh…”

You raised a hand to your throbbing head, slowly peeling yourself from the sofa and sitting upright. You didn’t even want to _try_ opening your eyes. When one hand was not enough to stifle your headache, you raised another hand to cradle your head between your knees. What had happened?

...

……

………

Ah. That was it.

You had gotten into a scrap with that Kylo Ren fellow.

You let out an airy laugh. Of course he was going to use the Force on you, and you were foolish to have believed that your duel would have been a fair one. When you considered the battle as a whole however, you had surely attained victory. He had saved himself from defeat only by a last-ditch effort – his swordsmanship was, quite frankly, nothing special at all. And people were afraid of this guy…? Regardless of what you and others thought of the fellow, you could not think about it any further. The pain in your head would not allow for it.

“Aaaaaaaagh!” You groan loudly in frustration, taking your hands away from your head and throwing yourself forward so that your face buried itself into one of the sofa cushions. You remained that way for a bit before wriggling around a little so that you could peer over the pillow and examine your surroundings. As you had guessed, it was Duu Yan’s room. He was the only one with a couch after all.

Then that meant that…

You sat upright again, letting the blanket that had been left strewn over you fall to your knees which you knelt on. Levi’s cloak was left folded on one of Duu Yan’s shelves, along with your robe and boots. You were correct then. You gazed down at your shoulder, which did not throb as much as you had expected it would. Your arm was wound up in bandages from your elbow to your shoulder. Naturally, it was accompanied by reams of medical tape to better secure the bandages ensnaring the crook of your arm, and again at your shoulder, obscured by the loop of your tank top. The urge to tear it all away and examine the damage that had been done was intense, but it was obvious from the amount of tape Duu Yan had reinforced the bandages with, he had already considered this a possibility too. Damn it.

You finally find the strength to pull yourself up off the sofa, but upon standing, the pain in your head grows. Again, you clutch your temples in your hands and let the wave pass. When it does, you decide that it would be best to do something practical about it, rather than gritting your teeth and squeezing the dear life out of your head every time the pain got worse. You spy Duu Yan’s medical supplies still lying around on his bed, and you begin leafing through the box trying to find some painkillers. You do, and take two. Noticing the glass of water that had been left out on his desk for you, you swallow the pills and gulp down what is left in the glass before gathering your clothes from Duu Yan’s shelf.

You lace up your boots, and throw Levi’s cloak around your shoulders, tying it closed at your chest. You examine your robes, noting the burnt away and blood-stained fabric on the arm. It is much bigger than you had expected, although there was significantly less blood. The blade must have cauterized the wound on impact. Still...

Subconsciously, you run your fingers over your injured arm. It was surely scarred now. Duu Yan would let you have it later, but you did not need his reminders that a dancer’s greatest asset is their body. Of course, he would care more about you not _injuring_ yourself, rather than the appearance of the limb. You would beat yourself up over that alone.

Lost in thoughts, you do not hear the door open until the intruder waves their palm in front of your face.

“Master…? Hello…?”

You snap out of your thoughts and meet their gaze. It is Kiirin, the young torgruta sheepishly grinning up at you. You offer a small smile in return, and pat her head between the nubs of her montrals.

“Sorry, Kiirin. Something came up this morning and I was unable to train you. How did your examination go?”

She looks at you as though you have grown a second head at the casual shrugging off of your earlier fight. She bounces from foot-to-foot, seemingly teeming with questions for you but you step around the child and exit Duu Yan’s room into the small hallway connecting everyone’s rooms. You enter your room, and when Kiirin freezes at the entrance way, you usher her in with a wave of your hand. You begin to tear through whatever clothes you own, looking for another set of robes. Kiirin still restlessly shuffles around your room, but decides to forfeit her questions about your match in favour of another idea she has had;

“Duu Yan reckons my ankle is a lot better! So that means I can go with you on your next outing, right? You’ll take me won’t you?”

You stop what you are doing and look over your shoulder at Kiirin, who has stopped fidgeting and is waiting for your favourable response patiently. You can see the desire for adventure in her eyes, and yet you know your response will squelch it. You continue ruffling through your drawers.

“Kiirin… You know how it is. You’ve only been training here for two months. It’s too risky.”

The torgruta, however, unexpectedly gets fired up by your response.

“And what, bringing me here isn’t? Leaving me alone on the ship during your last meeting wasn’t?” Kiirin fumes whilst stamping down on the foot that had once been injured over a week ago. “You were supposed to be different to everyone, master! You weren’t supposed to… To… To treat me like a kid!”

You slam the drawer shut abruptly, and rise to your feet. You turn to acknowledge the young prodigy. It was true that she would likely hold her own on the battlefield, but talent only takes one so far. It is experience that counts the most, something she is greatly lacking in. Still… Her eyes meet yours with such resolve, even amongst tears you can see how desperately she wants it.

You rub the back of your neck awkwardly. “Aw, come on Kiirin… Don’t play the adult card with me.”

At this, the torgruta’s face brightens. She knows that as soon as you fidget in that way, she has won you over.

“But listen!” You add sharply, raising a finger in warning towards her. “You have to stay tight by my side at all times!”

“Roger that!” She answers, clenching both fists in excitement.

“And for star’s sake, don’t tell Levi this time!” You seethe through gritted teeth, but your amusement is apparent.

“Ah… Roger that too…!” Kiirin sheepishly replies, clearly recounting last time she had convinced you to take her on a trip only to earn you an earful from Levi about how risky it was and how he had no idea how you even _came_ to be the commander of the ship.

With that sorted, you discard Levi’s robe onto your bed and begin putting on the robes you had selected, sliding your bandaged arm through first. Kiirin’s eyes intently stare at the injury. You can practically see the questions from earlier swirling around in her head.

“Does it hurt?”

Question number one finally escapes her lips.

“No.”

You secure the robe with a belt, and reaching under your bed, you pull out a box of daggers and other miscellaneous weaponry.

 “Was he strong?”

Question two arrives. You choose a curved dagger from the box and examine it from all angles.

“Mm… I guess? Didn’t really live up to the hype, though.”

You decide against the dagger and drop it back into the box with a _clink!_

“…So, did you…?”

Question three is only a whisper, and an unfinished one at that. But you do not need to hear anymore to understand what she wishes to know.

“You’re asking a lot of questions today, Kiirin.” Why are you raising your voice? Why is your tone so icy? “Go and comm Levi _and stay with him_. Tell him his robe is in my room.”

You kick the box back underneath your bed, much harder than necessary and taking one of the many wooden practice swords from the pile accumulating at the foot of your bed, you make for the exit.

“Wh-Where... Where are you going…?” Kiirin’s voice is hushed. She knows she has touched on a sensitive spot, and you feel guilty for lashing out how you had. But you could not help it – your pride had been shattered.

“Out.”

And with that, you left her alone, passing Duu Yan without acknowledgement in the main space of the ship and disembarking back into the Finalizer’s grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! This update arrives really late and overdue!
> 
> It was probably pretty unrealistic to aim for an update every two days, ahah...  
> I'm not sure of your personal preference but I much prefer longer chapters as opposed to many short ones, so I always aim to keep my chapters over a certain word count. This chapter is quite long - one of the longest so far - so I hope it makes up for the wait a little!
> 
> There won't be such a long gap between updates again, I had a lot of events going on irl so I had to work around an awkward schedule to write this, so I hope at least that is reassuring! 
> 
> Thank you for leaving such lovely comments and so many kudos! It really motivates me to write more! I hope I can tell a story up to your expectations! Thank you!


	6. Secrets

**Chapter Six: Secrets**

You attempt to clear your head only to end up more conflicted than you were before.

* * *

 

An hour has passed since you stormed out on Kiirin. You have been following the seemingly-endless corridors for the entirety of that time, concluding that you were probably using your self-frustration as an excuse at this point to cover up the fact you had no idea where you were. You weren’t going back to your ship anytime soon, that was for certain.

Though the walk had ended up in such a way, you had plenty of time to reflect over many things while you explored. These ‘things’ ranged from what next you would teach Kiirin, to where you would need to gather intel for the mission, to where the nearest canteena was and then to Kylo Ren.

You were a strong believer in body language being better at communication than words. What you could not put into words could be conveyed with touch – better yet, fighting. The expression one wore whilst giving their all in a match of pure strength often told you more than conversation ever could, because the reason they were fighting would shine through. A grin showed pride, or a friendly exchange. Gritted teeth showed guts and determination, or how desperately something was on the line. Squinted eyes. Tears. Reopened wounds; these were all tell-tale signs of a person’s entire being up until that point. Where words fail, actions won’t.

Or so you have always believed.

A sigh leaves through parted lips as you adjust the wooden sword leaning on your shoulder.

You could not tell what kind of person Kylo Ren was. When you draw this conclusion, your feet grind to a halt.

No. Such a statement would be incorrect to make.

Commander Kylo Ren of the First Order was _indefinitely_ a coward.

“Only cowards hide behind masks…” You speak your thoughts aloud, only to yourself and the empty durasteel corridors. “Those who have something to hide. Something they do not want laid bare.”

So then, what is it that you are hiding, commander? You add to yourself mentally, as though afraid to speak and summon him from wherever he currently resides.

Your feet once again find their rhythm and take you on your way.

* * *

 

  
"The strangest thing happened earlier today..."

A voice speaks from inside one of the repair workshops, the open door letting gossip fly free to the rest of the workplace. You pause at the corner of the corridor, just out of sight. This had been your first encounter with First Order intel since you had arrived, and if it was something you could sell on, you would stick around to hear it.

  
"I saw the commander approaching our station and so I assumed he was about to turn the place upside down for the third time this week... But get this! He walked right on by and headed straight for the training room!"

The voice is feminine, and the woman’s voice raises and fades in volume, as though she is addressing a group of people. You edge closer to the door – any intel you can get on Ren would surely fetch a fair amount of credits to the right buyer. It wasn’t difficult to find someone who actually _liked_ the guy.

Another voice speaks, but it is too far away and much too hushed for you to hear. You practically hover over the door, desperate to learn whatever you can.

  
"I mean, sure, it's bound to be troublesome to have the door repaired, but it's ten-fold better than having to replace control consoles every two days."

Now this… This rings a bell.

If there was one thing you heard the most about the commander before you boarded the Finaliser, it was that he just _loved_ smashing things to pieces. In fact, most of the employees you smuggled out of the Order were usually repair attendants of some form or another, fleeing for their lives after losing comrades and co-workers to the wrath of Kylo’s anger and frustration.

It was something that you could not deny interested you about the man. Compared to the you who kept to yourself and felt it best to supress negative emotions, Ren seemingly wore his heart on his sleeve. Why?

“I wonder when we’ll actually be called to repair the door.”

The voice is a new one. A male, seemingly old in age.

“I don’t know… I overheard one of the lieutenants talking about half an hour ago. Says the whole place is heavily guarded for some reason.”

Guarded? You retract away from the door. What was that supposed to mean?

“I heard that too! Some of the troopers who were on patrol on those corridors said they had four just to guard the door! Apparently, there’s something in there that the commander doesn’t want anyone touching...”

You swallow. You think back to when you changed your clothes, but it is futile. You pat your hip and find nothing, once again the action is only futile. It is long gone, and you know it.

The lightsaber you had spent over a month building. That was what they were guarding.

You leaned your head back against the wall. Why hadn’t Kylo just taken it with him? Or… You freeze.

Was he testing you?

Your left foot turns you in the direction of the training room, and you give one final and long glance into the repair room, the gossip now melting into speculation about the training room’s contents. This glance ends up being a mistake however, as you end up walking right into one of the last people you wanted to see right now.

Busted. Caught red-handed.

"You know, commander, you are extremely difficult to get a hold of. Shall I tape your comm to your hand so that you may make yourself more available to us?"

You really aren’t in the mood for his smart-ass attitude, and so using the most passive-aggressive smile you have in your arsenal, you respond; "I was looking for some peace and quiet, general. But it seems from your tone I will not be getting it any time soon. Well then, what is it?"

General Hux visibly debates calling you out on your eavesdropping, but decides to overlook it.

  
"You were due in the conference room fifteen minutes ago _, commander_." He seethes through gritted teeth. "We are waiting _. Still_ waiting. If you wish to make a mockery of both the Order and your companion, you may consider it done."

You...find it quite difficult to respond to this. You were beyond embarrassed, as someone who usually tried to be professional with your work. This was a blip on your record to say the least, and you figure it best not to strain your relationship with a snide man like Hux any further.

“I apologize, general. I was unaware. Please, do lead the way.”

And he does, without another word.

* * *

 

Upon entering the conference room, all eyes fall on you, and you apologize (and equally, try to hide your shame) with a small bow.

Casting a glance around the room, you note some unfamiliar faces. Everyone is sat around a round table fitted with modern holographic technology in its centre. Hux reclaims his seat at the head of the table, with Ren on his right and a seemingly high-ranking stormtrooper clad in silver armour on his left. Another man sits at the table next to her, a high-ranking officer perhaps. You take your seat directly across from the general, with Duu Yan to your right and next to Kylo Ren.

  
"Master l/n...!" Duu Yan rises from his seat to greet you with a tone of sheer relief.  
"Sit, Duu Yan." You nod and he obeys, then, turning to address the whole room you add; "I'm sure you all are quite sick of waiting so I will spare the formalities. I am commander y/n l/n."

  
"Commander of what? A band of petty thieves and mercenaries?" The man wearing the name badge of Seren sneers in utter disgust in your direction.

You see Duu Yan twitch at the man’s comment from the corner of your eye.

  
"Call it what you like. At the end of the day, it puts food on the table." You take your seat again, leaning back in it and trying to let his comment pass over your head.

  
"So you're criminals for survival?" This time the silver-plated stormtrooper addresses you, in a shockingly feminine voice.

  
“I can’t speak for any of you, but I don’t personally enjoy mowing down civilians for enjoyment." Your voice is jeering and sarcastic. You do not like being looked down upon, especially by a group of people who have single-handedly raised the fatality of the entire galaxy just by _existing._

  
Duu Yan's foot edges yours underneath the table as you pass the comment. You ignore it.

  
Seren scoffs loudly, turning to Hux before standing. "This is ridiculous. I won't waste a second more of my time discussing confidential matters with this... This... This filthy-!"

  
"That is enough, admiral."

  
Time seems to stand still. The modulated voice is sudden and sharp, the tension in the air thick with anticipation.

  
"Sit down."

And Admiral Seren sits.

  
You can't take your eyes off of Kylo Ren. The same man who had knocked you senseless _just hours prior_ was now fighting your battles for you. Wait... Fighting your battles-!

  
"I appreciate your input, Commander Ren but I do not need your assistance." You raise yourself forward, both hands on the table in front of you so you can tower over Seren from afar. It is time to do what you do best, and you put on your most convincing business-like tone. "You have no reason to trust me yet, Admiral. I would do the same in your position. But you will come to do so with time. I swear it."

  
You stare Seren down, daring him to challenge you in front of his peers. Everyone awaits his response, watching him with interest until he finally cracks.

  
"If it is the general's order, I cannot refute it."

  
And the situation dissipates.

  
Hux clears his throat, clearly eager to begin explaining the true reason everyone has been gathered.

“As you all know, we are gathered here to discuss one of the Order’s more…under-the-radar missions; this one regarding our once-ally, now-enemy Senator Molroc.”

The general stands now to address the room, and attempts to bring up the First Order’s files regarding the ishi tib, but ultimately failing.

  
"Of course, what we are currently lacking greatly in is information.” Hux gestures to the luminous blue hologram holding only an error code for its audience to view. “Ever since the senator seized his backing of the First Order, the information we previously had has been inaccessible. Our database records were rendered blank from the moment he turned his back on us."

  
"I hope you don't mind my asking, general, but if the Order was aware that the senator had been acting suspiciously and tampering with files, why didn't anyone take action right away?"

  
Duu Yan looks at Hux with a level, but quizzical expression. He is assessing the risk of the mission - everyone at the table knows why action could not have been taken. It would taint the name of the First Order within the senate, a place that they very much needed to conquer and gain support from if they wished to succeed in their agenda.

  
"Senator Molroc is a noble from Kesiki.” You finally lean forward in your seat, scanning your eyes briefly over the others at the table. “Although his linage has been kept a secret from those outside of his inner circle." You add, answering Duu Yan’s question for the general. With that,  all eyes are drawn in your direction. In fact, you seem to have _actually impressed_ even admiral Seren.

You lean your elbows on the table, threading your fingers between the gaps in your hands and resting your chin on the bridge. “Outcasting him would have cost the Order the support from Kesiki in its entirety. The planet has a rich culture regarding its nobles and highborn, and to disregard that so carelessly would be considered, undoubtedly, an insult to their people. The planet is neutral, and the Order needed its backing to help supress the Rebellion and New Republic.” You can’t help but give a wry smirk as you add; “or at least, it _used_ to be neutral.”

   
"Oh? It seems you are more informed that you would have led us to believe, commander." Hux ignores your low blow at his organisation, and leans forward to mimic a posture similar to your own. “I was unaware you were so versed on both nobility _and_ the war.”

  
Duu Yan shifts uneasily on his chair.

  
"I am afraid I am not understanding. If the Order cannot  strike directly, what is so difficult about stripping a senator of their position, regardless of their status? The senate is as corrupt as it gets - it would not be difficult to find something to expose him on. His people would reject him for scandalous affairs, surely?"

  
The room is silent. The general looks between you and Duu Yan with both confusion and humour.

  
"Commander? Have you not explained the contents of this mission to your advisor yet?"

  
You grit your teeth, but you knew this was coming. Duu Yan could be mad all he wants later, but the fact still stands. He would not have let you make the deal had he known what your part of the bargain was. Levi would not have flown you here had he known what your part of the bargain was. You were lucky Kiirin was too young to have an influential input in your choices because you were certain she would have words for you about this too.

  
You decide to begin with brutal honesty.

  
"I'm afraid that is where you are wrong, general. Duu Yan is my medic. He is no advisor."

  
Duu Yan lowers his head, suddenly feeling out of place. It was true. He was a humble medic.

Still, you valued his input in discussions and so he often accompanied you during meetings such as this. You only remind him of this fact so that he has no rational reason to get mad at you later, only personal feelings that count for naught. Hux watches Duu Yan fidget, always critical and analytical. He then relieves him of his gaze and meets your eyes.

  
"Was anyone in your... 'Crew' made aware of the reason they are here?"

  
You lean back in your chair.

  
"No."

  
Hux laughs, but it is short and bitter. "Really? After such the song-and-dance you made about 'teamwork' and absolutely requiring their presence aboard the Finalizer?"

  
You grow irritated and bored of the conversation. You lean forward once more, elbows on the table and arms folded. "I requested their presence so they may make use of the resources we agreed you would provide. At no point did I mention that they would be a part of this mission."

  
"But you implied it, commander."

  
"But did I actually say it, general?" Hux does not respond. "I grow tired of this discussion. I see not why it matters. My companions are my business. Duu Yan is present, he will receive the details now. I see no issue here. Do continue before I consider premature leave."

Hux grits his teeth, rolling his jaw as he attempts to discern your thoughts through narrowed eyes.

“Alright, commander. I will.”

* * *

 

The meeting finally ends under the agreement that you may spend some time digging around for more information on why the senator chose to turn his back on the Order. You are more than happy with such an objective for the time being – you can’t wait to get off of this damn ship and straight to the nearest canteena in your vicinity.

You gather yourself up out of the chair and do not meet Duu Yan’s eyes, but summon him with a tilt of your head. He too, does not meet your eyes, but silently complies and exits the conference room in front of you. He does not wait for you before he continues towards the hanger, leaving you to make the journey back on your own.

You’re more than glad to, given that you have a small…side-quest…to undertake before you can call it a day. As you make for the exit yourself, Kylo Ren finally rises from his seat.

He does not acknowledge you up close as he takes his leave, but instead hovers momentarily in the doorway behind you to offer one last input to the discussion;

  
"If you thought I was defending you commander, you would be greatly mistaken. It would do you wise to watch your back from now on."

  
And he leaves you as suddenly as he had appeared that morning, striding away until his footsteps are lost to the distance between the two of you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say;  
> Roses are red  
> Here is a rhyme  
> Best way to avoid inaccurately portraying canon characters with little source material and planets  
> Is to make up your own every time 
> 
> PS. I'm halfway done with the next update, so please expect another one soon!


	7. Eidetic Memory

**Chapter Seven: Eidetic Memory**

You pay a visit to an old friend to gather information, but it does not go as planned.

 

* * *

 

_A heavy shower of rain falls unforecasted on a normally sunny planet, soaking two figures standing without finding shelter._

_The two only watch each other’s faces, letting the relentless raindrops drip from their hair to their chin and to the drenched asphalt below._

_Ever so gradually, as if careful not to scare them away, the taller figure of the two shifts towards the other with purposeful strides._

_A palm is raised and taking the smaller figure’s head in a gentle embrace from behind, they guide them towards themselves until the distance between the two is finally reduced to zero._

_A secret is born, and there is no turning back._

 

Kylo Ren jolts awake, gasping for air and clutching his chest tight with one palm in an attempt to slow his ever-increasing heart rate. Sweat drips from his brow, and he wipes it as his breath finally comes unlaboured and regular.

He decides to climb out of bed, and begins to put on his robes. It is four in the morning, but he knows that sleep will not come now.

It is four in the morning and Kylo Ren is going to forget everything he just dreamt.

 

* * *

 

“Master, no offence but full offence, you suck.”

“You wanted to come with me on my next mission and here you are. I see no reason for me to ‘suck.’”

Kiirin rolls her eyes and picks up her pace to match yours, frowning intensely at you from your side. You don’t give her a second glance as you add;

“Besides, intel is an extremely important job, you know. It can be the difference between a successful mission and a failure.”

 

Despite her disappointment, Kiirin finds it difficult to refute this and sighs loudly instead.

“I know… I just wanted to do something… I don’t know… More exciting? Y’know, like fighting bad guys and stuff!” Kiirin’s eyes shine with the innocence of one who knows not the experience of the battlefield, and you can’t help but envy it.

“Maybe next time.” You conclude, though you know this statement itself is only made to cheer the torgruta up rather than to make a solid promise.

At least at hearing this, she does brighten up, and more readily follows you from behind now as you guide her through a narrow set of alleyways.

 

When you reach your destination, you usher Kiirin through the door before you and close it quietly behind you. The entire shop seems abandoned, lacking its usual ‘buzz’ and endless business as though the inhabitants and customers had been spirited away by an unknown force.

This was not true, of course.

 

“Master… Where is this place? It looks like some sort of junk shop…” Kiirin whispers, as though still uncertain of her surroundings.

“Junk…? Junk!? Is that what you kids call my store nowadays!? I’ll have you know I on’y manufacture ‘n’ sell the finest of parts! Ships, droids, even weapons! You name it, I got it!” A voice calls from the room in the back.

“Isn’t that just another way of saying you fix up scrap and sell it on?” You jeer, smiling at the familiar voice and approaching the room from behind the counter.

 

Kiirin, still uncertain, hangs behind you as you enter. Sitting on top of a crate with a mug of caff is a tall, muscular man in his mid-50s. You reach out to shake his hand as he sets down his cup, and he squeezes your hand with enough force that you feel as though you’ll break a finger or two.

“y/n! It’s been too long. How’s that boy of mine, eh? Causing any trouble for ya’?”

You return the man’s lighthearted smile and move back a little to sit on top of an old X-Wing nose that has been half-covered with a white sheet.

“Haha, no way! He helps me out in more ways than one. I’m grateful you allowed him to accompany me.” You bow your head a little to express your gratitude, but the man shakes his free hand as he sips on his caff.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, lass. I’m glad you took him off my hands. He was no good to me sulking around the store all day…” The man recalls some unpleasant memories and wraps both his hands around the now-empty mug, running his thumbs up and down the handle.

You also recall one of those few unpleasant memories that the two of you have in common, and decide to pan off the awkward tension by introducing your apprentice.

 

“Ah..! That’s right!” You clap, catching his attention once more and then directing it in Kiirin’s direction with a flick of your wrist. “Cal, this is Kiirin, my apprentice. Kiirin, this is old man Clark, but everyone just calls him Cal.”

“Who are you callin’ old, lass?” Cal gives you a playful kick of his leg as he walks past and towards the small sink in the corner. He begins to rinse his mug, casting a glance now and again at Kiirin. “Don’t be takin’ this the wrong way now, y/n, but ain’t you a little young to be teachin’ an apprentice?”

You swallow, whether in awkward agreement or in protest it is unclear. You opt to take middle ground, hoping not to start a disagreement in front of Kiirin.

“Heh, probably… I’m still pretty inexperienced myself. There are a lot of things I still have to learn but…” You meet Cal’s gaze much more firmly now. “I think I still have a lot of good to pass on.”

Cal’s eyes don’t leave yours until he finishes running a drying cloth around the inside of his mug, finally turning to set it on the shelf with the others. He leans on the counter and sighs through his nose.

“If only Ten were here…” He wistfully responds, looking down at the floor before him.

 

Kiirin shifts awkwardly between you two as neither of you speak, lost in distant memories. As you finally take notice of her bare feet shifting weight from one to the other, you smile and push off of the ship nose to pat her head between her nubby horns.

“’If’s’ won’t get us anywhere. Right, Kiirin?” You can’t help but swell with a little pride when you softly meet your apprentice’s gaze. You feel like boasting a little, and so you do. “Truth is, I’ve only been training Kiirin for a couple weeks now, but… It really does feel longer than that. She picks up stuff so easily, y’know? It’s like she has an eidetic memory!”

You continue stroking Kiirin’s head, as she bows it as though knowing your next words and offering her permission to share them.

 

“Kiirin, she… She lost her parents.” Your hand seizes atop her head.

“A raid. I arrived after the fighting, so I couldn’t tell by which side it had been led by. They were caught up in the crossfire, and it was too late by the time we arrived on the scene. Kiirin was-“

“I was alone… I was hiding under a crashed ship like my mother told me to. I was crying… I was scared… I… I didn’t know what to do, and then Master arrived.” Kiirin’s eyes brimmed slightly with tears, but they did not fall and eventually faded as her resolve grew. She meets Cal eye-to-eye and steps forward with hands clenched tight into fists.

“Master arrived and saved me! She offered me more than a place to stay and her tutelage…! She… She gave me courage! So… Even if you say Master is too young… I can only disagree. Because Master has taught me many wonderful things that go beyond using a sword or sneaking around…”

Cal, intrigued by the youngster’s sudden enthusiasm, laps up each word hungrily, perhaps due to his paternal nature.

 

“Wonderful things? What sort of wonderful things?” Cal asks, stepping away from the counter and approaching Kiirin directly.

“I learned... A dance.”

 

You flinch, eyes swiftly moving from Cal, whom you had been watching for his reaction, to the back of Kiirin’s head. Cal was equally as surprised, eyes widened slightly and looking over to you for confirmation.

You open to speak, but words do not flow.

The fact that you dance – no – you _used_ to dance was a secret known only to few; Duu Yan, Levi, Cal and of course, Ten.

You had never mentioned it to Kiirin at all, and had never intended to. It was a secret that would remain deeply buried in both the hearts of those who knew, and your own.

 

No.

There had been one time.

There had been one time you had danced.

 

Kiirin closes her eyes and begins to hum a gentle tune – one you know only too well.

Her leading foot slides along the dusty tile floor, until it is swept in a semi-circle, arms firmly at her sides.

She takes a step back on her free foot, beginning a pirouette by lifting the knee of her dominant foot and twirling on her heel until gradually lifting to her toes. When the spin slows, she somewhat gracefully switches foot and begins again, leaning further out and increasing her reach. Her arms sway and flow as though guiding a current of water, but the movement is seized as the pirouette ends sharply.

The once-airborne foot stamps the tiles below, and her right arm reaches out as though holding an object which cannot be seen. The movement is aggressive, each time she lashes out with her arm, the other static by her side, her foot collides with the floor again, as though stamping away something painful.

Finally, her other arm comes out of rest she joins her left hand with her right, resembling a praying motion and silently bringing her hands from above her head to her chest. Her body sways to the tune that she hums, and her hands part to move in time too. This part of the routine feels uncertain. Hollow, as though it is incomplete without any real foot movement. Her form changes again.

Swiping her foot backwards over the tiles, she skips forward and begins to move in a motion similar to the beginning of the routine, but it is, simultaneously, quite different.

For one, there is much more movement – Kiirin twirls around the room, making the most of the space. Her hands move similar to before however, still swaying as though guiding a current that, though non-existent, can be seen by those observing.

There is vertical motion too, as she lowers herself every second 4th beat and rising with a slight wobble, but maintaining the timing perfectly. With every 2nd twirl, there is a slight moment wherein she is airborne, before descending and melting into the next move.

As she gradually makes her way back to the point of origin, her hands sway and though dispelling the flow her hands had been guiding, and instead raising into something more ferocious, quite akin to fire. As the invisible flames she has been guiding fizzle out in one final pirouette, she finishes in a graceful position on the floor, before raising her head with determined eyes in your direction.

 

You cannot speak, and instead, tremble with emotions you cannot place.

She had seen you. You were certain there was no one and yet-!

No…

No.

She had not only seen you, she had memorised it all and almost exactly how you had performed it.

_“It’s like she has an eidetic memory!”_

Your words stick in your ears as you feel a tear roll its way down your cheek.

 

“This dance is about your life… Right, Master?”

 

Your mother.

Painful memories you’d rather forget.

Memories you may never recover.

Your new resolve.

Your final act.

Your inevitable death.

 

“You are mistaken. I do not dance.”

You can only offer a feeble response that comes out cold and sharp, pushing Kiirin away from getting any closer to your thoughts. Feeling the emotional distance is not quite enough, you leave the room and exit the shop to clear your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> Initially I planned to post this much earlier, but I actually left for a week-and-a-bit long vacation and having left my packing and preparations last minute, I didn't get a chance to finish it until now. I got back yesterday and so I had some free time today to work on it. I hope it was worth the wait!  
> Gradually things are coming together for y/n's story, so I hope you're enjoying piecing it together!   
> Also a sneaky teaser on Kylo's behalf, hehe~ He will be back next chapter to mess shit up as usual, don't worry.
> 
> A few quick notes!  
> -Cal is Levi's father - it felt awkward to outright state this in the story as I'm sure Kiirin would have heard his name before at least, so I left it omitted.   
> -Ten... He's quite an important character, especially to the reader. I hope you will enjoy learning about him too!  
> -Finally, I updated the description of the story! I felt the last one didn't really match, so please don't be alarmed if you struggle to find the story when it updates by looking for the description!
> 
> As always, thank you for your lovely comments and kudos!  
> 'Til next time!


	8. Why

**Chapter Eight: Why**

Reflecting on it, everything seems to be going against you lately. Why all at once?

* * *

 

A cold breath escapes through your nose as you take another bite of the warm, dumpling-like food in your hands. You had no idea what it was, but the scent of the warm meat-filling amongst the freezing air was enough to draw you towards the street side stall to buy a few.

Initially, you had only intended to buy yourself two. But out of repeated habit, you ended up buying four. Anytime you bought yourself something with meat in it, you always bought extra for Kiirin, who’s eyes would light up when presented with it. You sighed to yourself. This was not helping anything.

Finishing the last bite of the dumpling by shoving it fully into your mouth, you dusted your hands off together, watching the tiny flakes of flour flutter away. Grabbing the brown paper bag you had sat beside you on the wall, you peered inside. They were still hot, condensation floating for escape the moment you unfurled the top. This whole situation was stupid. It could easily be resolved if you explained things to Kiirin… But a large part of you doesn’t want to do that.

You don’t want Kiirin to have to carry that burden too.

Still, you had acted immaturely. You were supposed to be her mentor, and yet lately all you’ve shown her is your incompetent side.

 

Damn it…!

 

Clenching your fist tight around the top of the paper bag, you slam your free fist down hard on the stone wall. The thin layer of snow that had fallen atop of it scattered in both directions with the force, and the thud sets some birds into motion from the buildings above.

 

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

You slam it down another three times.

 

The pain does not seep in right away, your hand numbed with the planet’s icy temperatures. When it does, you regret lashing out so carelessly, and you cradle your hand close to your chest.

It was a habit you had begun shortly after you left with Ten. You couldn’t tell anyone about your concerns, and most certainly not your secrets. And so, if you could not release your frustrations verbally, then physically would do.

 

You pull your hand away to examine the damage. Along the bottom side of your hand has already begun to turn a shade of purple. No fingers broken, but from the swelling of your pinky and ring fingers, they’re probably staved. Oh well. You shake your hand out hoping to - by some miracle - dispel the pain, but it offers only temporary relief. Duu Yan would probably yell at you later for self-inflicting wounds again, but that was a worry for then.

For now, you would go sort things out with Kiirin.

 

Jumping off the wall, you shove your injured hand into a hidden pocket in your cloak, and with the other, you swing the dumplings by your side as you make your way back to Cal’s.

 

* * *

 

It is not there.

Kylo Ren has already destroyed most of the facility and its contents, but it does not change the fact that it _just is not there._

 

“Where is it!?”

“I-! We-! We don’t know, commander! We’ve been stationed here all night as you’d ordered-“

“Then where has it gone, soldier, hm? Weapons cannot just _disappear_!”

The ‘trooper’s feet rise off of the ground. His hands reach for his neck as he struggles for a single, laboured breath from behind his mask.

“Halt, Ren. Drop that soldier at once.”

 

Hux voice calls from the end of the corridor – likely attracted by the black smoke billowing out of the once-training-room-now-crash-site – but Ren does not pay heed to it.

“Ren!” Hux raises his voice this time, drawing closer to the commander until he is close enough to lower the man’s arm for him. The stormtrooper drops to the ground with a thud, before scurrying away on his backside and climbing to a crawl to escape.

“Do you know where it is!?”

The hauntingly-immaculate black mask turns on Hux immediately, like a dog bearing its fangs. He is not intimidated, and instead replies calmly;

“I do not know what you are talking about, but it’d best be good considering that whatever _this_ little stunt was about has more than trebled our costs for damage control this month.”

 

Kylo Ren’s hunched shoulders fall.

“That commander-“

“Commander l/n.” Hux corrects.

“Commander l/n had a lightsaber.”

Hux freezes in response. He looks towards the smoke emerging from the doorway and then back to Ren in a state of disbelief.

“…Are you certain?”

“I think I know what a lightsaber looks like, you-“

“This is… This is… How can this be?”

 

He begins to pace back and forth with a hand tightly clasping his chin, mumbling in a low voice to himself, before he turns sharply on his heel to address his associate once more.

“Each of the candidates I considered for this…position…I thoroughly researched. Not a credit was wasted in upturning information about the girl! If she were force-sensitive, we would have known! This is impossible, this is…”

Suddenly, Hux stops in his tracks once more, as though coming to a realisation.

 

“We will have to inform the Supreme Leader of this immediately-“

A hand stops Hux from taking a step further down the corridor. He turns to face Kylo Ren, who uses his free hand to click off the clasps on the underside of his helmet with a _hissssss_. He holds the helmet loose in one hand, and removes the other from Hux’s arm.

“If she were force-sensitive, _I_ would have known. She does not have a force signature. There is no need to alert the Supreme Leader just yet.”

 

Hux straightens himself, swiping the crease out of his shirt where Kylo had grabbed him, before looking up to now meet the commander’s gaze.

“Then why does she have something that so clearly does not belong to her?”

“I don’t know.” Kylo confesses, and indicates to the side of his head briefly with a finger. “I tried looking inside of her mind, but it is strange. It is as though there is nothing there, hollow like a droid.”

 

Hux searches Kylo’s now-exposed eyes before raising a hand to his forehead and exhaling laboriously.

“Find the lightsaber. We can’t have a weapon of such calibre floating around the Finalizer, especially when a retaliation from Kesiki will be especially imminent once word gets out we’re after their representative senator.”

With that, the general wordlessly leaves with a dramatic turn. The coat draped over his shoulders twirls before settling there again and bobbing up and down with each step he grew further away from Ren.

 

“I almost forgot to mention, general.”

Hux’s feet slow to a halt, but he does not turn around. He merely indicates his attention with a small raise of his head.

“The lightsaber is not professionally manufactured. It’s unstable, likely to explode and kill its wielder at any moment now.”

“ _Then that is even more reason to find it_. We shan’t kill the bantha before it goes to the slaughterhouse.”

 

Kylo Ren watches as the general’s strides lengthen with each step until he vanishes around the corner and out of sight. He considers once more why it is you accepted such a mission from the First Order of all organisations.

Finding no answers, he sets off for the hanger in the hopes of obtaining your whereabouts, for he has no doubt that it was you who had stolen the ‘saber back.

 

* * *

 

Kiirin runs her thumbs over the smooth rim of the white mug her hands were securely wrapped around. As she watches the condensation rise from the black, bitter caff, she finally speaks.

“I’ve done something really bad, haven’t I?”

 

Cal’s hands freeze at the sound of the torgurta’s voice, the spanner stopping mid-turn. He considers possible responses before returning to his work.

“Y/n’s pretty sensitive about the whole dancin’ thing, but she won’t hold it against ya’ kid. You didn’t know better.”

 

Kiirin shifts uncomfortably on the stool, rubbing her feet together as she brings the cup of caff closer to her mouth.

“I guess so… If it was something like that though... I wish she'd have told me. I definitely wouldn’t have done it, and then we wouldn't be where we are right now...”

Sniffing the caff in a big whiff, her brows knit together in apparent disgust. She lowers the mug once more, pushing it away slightly as she ponders how it is you enjoy and drink so much of the stuff.

 

Finished tightening bolts, Cal discards the spanner and wipes his hands on a dirty white rag that was hung over an old ship part. Gathering himself up, he moves back towards the counter and briefly glances down at the unwanted mug of caff left to cool.

 Settling his elbows on the counter, Cal wrings his hands before finally and slowly sliding down onto the stool directly across from Kiirin.

“You know right? About Levi ‘n’ me.”

 

Kiirin’s shoulders slump slightly as she subconsciously strokes the sides of her arms.

“About… Your relationship…?”

“Yeah.”  
“…Mmh.”

Cal leans back thoughtfully, as though if he gazed at the ceiling hard enough, he could see his son’s face.

 

“He ain’t a bad kid, my Levi. Lost his mom as a youngster to her illness. Was tough ‘un him for sure… Was tough ‘un both‘o’ us… Slowly watchin’ her fall apart…”

Kiirin could feel her eyes warm at the tale. On the first night she met Levi, it hadn’t been 24 hours since she had lost her parents. He had stayed with her through the night, and when she had asked why, he had told her that when he lost his mother, he was too afraid to sleep that night. Too afraid that death might claim him too. Too guilty that there was perhaps something else he could have done. Too many questions, too many sorrows.

 

“That kid… He always wanted to be a damn pilot. E’er since that day I put together an’ ol’ broken TIE fighter into a ship ‘o’ my own… E’er since I sat him on that front seat… We spent the whole damn day just floatin’ around in that thing.”

Cal’s eyes look distant, Kiirin notices. It is as though while Cal was here physically, mentally he was somewhere else. Somewhere far away in the distant past.

 

“Wanted ‘im to take o’er the family business, y’know? Passed to me from my dad, and his father before ‘im. Levi didn’t care, he just wanted to fly in that damn ship all day long.”  
Cal looks down to his hands, which at some point had interlaced, running his thumbs over his fingertips. His head droops slightly in shame.

“Fought a lot ‘cause of it. Gave each o’er hell. That’s when Y/n stepped in, sayin’ she needed a pilot for some mission or other, and that kid was up like a shot.”  
A laugh escapes in the form of a sigh through Cal’s nostrils, and a grin raises the forming wrinkles on his face.

“Glad she did actually. It was ne’er my intention to stamp on the kid’s dreams. Said when we road that ship that his problems seemed lightyears away, said flyin’ helped him feel alive.”

 

Addressing Kiirin one last time, meeting her eyes he finishes;

“Wish we didn’t part on such a hell offa’ bad note. Regret it every single day. I don’t think ‘sorrys’ or ‘didn’t mean its’ ‘ll fix it this time. But as long as my boy’s safe and well, then… I don’t think I can ask for more.”  


Kiirin’s hands shake with a tremble, though she cannot place why this is. Nor can she understand the reason behind the man sharing his woeful tale with her.

“Why… Are you telling me all of this…?”

 

Rising from the stool, Cal pats her between the nubs on her head as he passes by, similar to how Y/n had done earlier that day. He does not look back as he answers;

“Because I don’t want you two to make the same mistakes, so hurry up an’ make up.”

Before disappearing into the front of the store and opening it up for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!   
> Levi's story is finally told, albeit solely from his father's perspective.  
> I'm writing the next chapter right now, so there may be a double update today!  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments as always!


	9. Guardian

**Chapter Nine: Guardian**

It seems that you and Kylo Ren may have a much better relationship than one would expect.

* * *

 

Pulling your injured hand out from your pocket, you adjust your muffler so that it covers your nose and mouth. The air was absolutely chilling, and your face felt like it could fall off with the cold at any moment.

It was only now, after you had calmed down and vented your frustrations, that you actually realised how far you had walked in your blind rage. You were practically on the other side of the small city. You check your comm, which is lukewarm in your palm from having been stowed away deep in your pocket all this time.

A missed call from Duu Yan – probably to apologize for you two going at it last night. Unimportant right now.

Three missed calls from General Hux – yikes. Let’s pretend you never even seen them.

Several messages from potential clients… A message from Cal asking where you were… A message from Levi…

 

Wait.

A message from Levi?

Levi practically never uses his comm. What could he be looking for?

But upon opening the message, you found yourself more confused than before.

 

“Boss. KR got your co-ords. Pls don’t beat him up, the ginger guy is mad as it is.”  
Levi… His messages were almost comedic. You can’t help but roll your head back and groan as you try and find suitable lighting for your comm’s fussy screen so you can re-read the damn thing again.

Ginger guy was referring to the general undoubtedly, but you could already tell he was pissed with you from the three missed calls. KR though…? Did he mean Kylo Ren? What business had he with you?

You find yourself about to dial Levi for further explanation when footsteps above your head catch your ears. You quickly throw yourself tight to the wall of a nearby store, glancing up to the tiled rooftops before you just in time to see a wad of black cloth vanish unto the other side.

 

Crime wasn’t uncommon in any part of the galaxy, but you knew precisely where they were headed and for what purpose. After all, on the other side of that row of buildings was what is infamously known as the ‘Black Corridor.’

…

Well…

It wasn’t any of your business.

At least, you _thought_ it wasn’t.

 

Once certain the coast was clear, you pushed off of the wall with your foot and turned to be on your way again. However, you only got a small way before the gut feeling in your stomach told you to go back. To help whoever was the unfortunate victim of another one of Girrn’s infamous gang attacks.

“It’s not my problem…” You speak aloud, to yourself more than anyone else, and take another step forward.

But even this step is not enough to unconvinced you that something was certainly off here. Usually those common gang thugs travelled in groups. The fact that there was only one suggested that there was an aspect of recon at play. But whom?

You glance over your shoulder, as the almost-empty market alleyway is filled with the sounds of distant footsteps and unrecognisable shouts. Your eyes dart away and back, reflecting your current internal struggle. It _wasn’t_ your problem. But you had witnessed something you could prevent. Guilt clouds your brain until your feet finally move on their own towards the danger nearby.

 

Every fibre of your being said that this was a terrible idea.

And yet you could not stop your feet from moving faster with every step you took.

Because something inside of you said that there was a reason you had seen that man.

That today you would play someone’s guardian and save their life.

 

Using your good hand, you throw yourself onto a garbage pail and from there, leap onto the extended store-front roof of a stall below. Climbing higher with each jump, you quickly find yourself atop the same tile roof you had watched the man cross before, and from there you can see the situation below.

It’s how you had expected it – a large volume of soldiers, maybe 30 or 40, surrounding one unlucky passer-by who had entered one of the most dangerous areas around for lightyears.

There is a single exception, however.

And that is the man who finds himself playing victim.

The man who’s hand is slowly reaching for the concealed weapon at his hip and the very same man who will dig his own grave in doing so.

As often as you called these people ‘thugs’, in actuality, this was pretty far from the truth. These were no common cantena _‘I’m gonna kick your head in and steal whatever credits you have on you’_ kind of men.

No, what made this area so dangerous was that each gang that resided within it were in support of one another, rather than against. Their men are expertly trained. They’ve got deadly weapons. There wasn’t much that these men couldn’t do, and anyone would be a fool to think that their numbers end at only 35 or so men.

And that was exactly what that _idiot_ thought.

 

There’s always a single flaw within large organisations such as these, and that is that most people can’t function independently. If you were able to take out the general, then…

To cut the head off the snake, so to say.

You smirk from behind your muffler.

Looks like you really were meant to play someone’s guardian today.

As the man drew his weapon, the frontman of the gang breaks away from the circle of enemies and draws a blade snared in thorns – no doubt doused in poison. One hit and if the blood loss doesn’t kill you, the poison will. Slowly.

Before the man can ignite his weapon in defence, you pounce, drawing your favourite red katana from your waist.

 

As you fall through the air, you know you only have a 2 second window before you land and probably break a limb. Quickly identifying a landing point, you bring your sword back for the swing above your head.

Bringing the sword down with all the force you can muster, the frontman’s sword snaps clean in two, leaving only a stub for his defence. The forward force of your weapon causes you to flip forward on landing, and you just about pull off a forward roll to avoid breaking a limb.

That was lucky. It would have been totally uncool if you had saved this guy’s life and then broke your leg, sentencing you both to death.

 

You get to your feet pretty fast, aiming the blood-red coloured blade right at the man’s face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You can’t help but smirk again, this time using your bad hand to pull the muffler away from your face and dramatically throwing more of it over your shoulder so that it danced on the wind.

“Who are you!? Stay out of our business, girlie!”

The man stops examining his weapon and points what’s left of it towards you in return. You can see in his eyes that he is startled, and so you decide to use this to your advantage.

“Even a fool knows that if you bind a thin blade that tight with thorns, it’s not gonna take much to snap it clean in two. You lost before you had even started.”

The man’s eyes now shift. They dart to the obscured rooftops above, and a little panic sets in. There’s someone watching everything play out, and it’s only now that you notice the earpiece in his ear. This man isn’t the frontman. And now you and the victim were in grave danger.

 

Said victim, as though sensing your sudden waver in confidence, takes his weapon from his belt. A vision of bloodshed clouds your mind, and you shake it off, praying that he will not ignite it.

You need to calm down and rationally think of something.

“Wait a sec… I know you.”

The man’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you find a finger being pointed in your direction.

“Yeah, you’re Ten’s wingman… Er, wingwoman. Whatever.”

You raise your sword more firmly now, as the shake that had begun in your hands peters out.

 

“How does a thuggish-looking brute like you come into acquaintance with someone like Ten?”

You urge sarcasm into your voice, hoping to intimidate your opponent without much luck.

“Ha! You’ve _got_ to be kidding, right? Who doesn’t know Ten around here?”

When you don’t respond, the man adds;

“Listen kid. Lower that sword. I ain’t scared of a punk like you. Let’s not get yourself killed, eh?”

“If you’re no coward then why don’t you fight me down here?”

The man swallows, and seems to listen intently to the voice coming down his earpiece.

“What the hell ‘re you talkin’ about, if it’s a fight you want-“

You lift your sword away from the man and point it to the rooftops directly across from you. You spy the true frontman meeting your gaze from behind a chimney, speaking into his mic.

“If you won’t come to me, then I will come to you!”

 

You give the man some time to consider his options. In all honesty, if you could intimidate him into avoiding combat, then that would be the best possible outcome. But you know this is unlikely.

Your suspicions are confirmed when the man drops his mic and draws two daggers from his hips. Long range, you think, I can’t give him the opportunity! Dashing straight towards the rooftop, you are somewhat shocked to see the many henchmen part ways to allow you a clean passage. You climb to the rooftop similarly to before, but this time with a bit more struggle. Your bad hand is incredibly swollen by now, and it has become impossible to climb with. Seeing your struggle, the leader uses this as an advantage to throw one of his daggers in your direction. You do not see the victim’s hand rise and then freeze, as though hesitating.

Knowing you will not be able to dodge in time, you act fast, using one of the discarded metal pieces hanging out of the garbage pail as a make-shift shield to block the attack. The dagger pierces straight through it, but stops just before it meets your chest. You discard the now-useless scrap, and resume climbing without noticing the hand of the victim falling, impressed.

 

Moving your katana to your bad hand, you make faster progress, even dodging another dagger by swinging your body from a storefront so that it missed your abdomen by a hair. While the man is occupied drawing new weapons, you find yourself before him at last. The rooftiles are rather worn, you note, knowing that you will need to be extra light-footed to avoid falling straight through them.

“You’re Ten’s prodigy for sure. You got brains kid, but do you have brawn?”

The man smiles widely with the thrill of battle and draws his sword. You can’t help but respond in the same manner. This man is the same. He enjoys the feeling of a good fight. Of being on the edge of collapse. Of feeling alive. And so you promise to make his final battle a lethal one that he will never forget.

 

Your grip tightens around the worn, sweaty grip of your sword as you make the first move; a fast first step that propels you forwards and forces your opponent back. You strike up a quick rhythm with each hit, but your opponent does not struggle to retaliate and block each one.

“That all you got, eh?”

Despite his taunting, he struggles for breath and pants between words.

“I thought Ten would’ve shown you how to fight better than thi-“

You wind the man with a low kick, and he stumbles backwards off of the roof. Grabbing onto the rooftiles, he dangles and begins to pull himself upwards. You could easily score an easy wind and step on his fingers. The fall would be enough to immobilize him at least, you could take an easy kill. Your opponent knows this too.

 

Back on his feet before you, he takes up an offensive stance now, eyes narrowed but grin wide.

“Hesitating? Let me guess, ‘There’s no honour in an easy victory.’ All that shit that Ten used’a talk about.”

You pant heavily, trying to catch your breath. Fighting at such a quick tempo was tiring, especially after all the climbing you had just done. Your hand was still throbbing too, and the tighter you gripped your sword, the worse the pain got.

“Seems his words were wasted on you.” You simply respond.

 

The man only gives a dry laugh through his nose before advancing on you. His sword is much thicker, with better reach too and it causes a reverberation as it strikes down hard on yours. If he continues to rally onwards at this rate, your sword will snap clean in two without question. Another swing and you are just a moment too slow to properly protect yourself, causing his blade to nick your jaw just deep enough to cause bleeding.

You flinch, but grit your teeth, unwilling to show signs of weakness.

You just need to bide your time and look for an opening…!

 

As your foe continues his relentless strikes, you find yourself being forced closer and closer to the edge of the rooftop until you find your heel on the edge of the tiles. Seeing their victory approaching, the men below begin to cheer and laugh. Even your opponent sneers as you grit your teeth and swallow.

“All bark and no bite. Looks like I was right about you, you really are just like Ten.”

He laughs as he raises his sword again for the final blow.

“But I’m a generous guy. Let me kindly reunite you with your master…!”

As he brings his sword down with incredible force one last time, you see your chance.

 

You push off the tiles, causing those nearest the edge to scatter as you grab ahold of his waist and lean forwards. Disorientated, his sword narrowly misses you and instead rips up the tiles beneath you, causing them to break away without much resistance. He grunts as he realises the rooftop is shattering right from under your feet, and you use this shock to take one last step forwards. Taken by his centre of gravity, your opponent is flung right over your shoulder and you both begin spiralling to the ground below.

You catch one last glimpse at your opponent’s face through the cartwheeling tangle of limbs and see the face of a man who knows he has lost. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing your eyelids as you brace for landing. The fall only lasts several seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. You can feel the aches in your limbs much more strongly. Feel the blood pulsing as it continues to flow down your jaw. Feel the pain in your swollen hand and the unrelenting beating of your heart as it tries to keep up with your heaving lungs.

 

How ironic it is, you think, that in my final moments never have I felt so alive.

Or so you had believed them to be.

 

On the split second before your two bodies collided with the hard asphalt below, a mysterious force seized you right in the air, sparing any bloodshed. As you slowly open your eyes, confused as to why you, well, have not died, you see the victim in the distance.

“That is enough.”

You watch him with intrigue from afar (and unfortunately, upside down) as he suspends the two of you mid-flight with just a stretch of an arm. You are certain that beneath that stupid mask he is meeting your gaze, and he tosses the two of you aside like a child would a toy they’ve grown bored with.

 

You tumble forwards until you crash into one of the storefronts used as a make-shift base, finding yourself, again, looking onwards upside down.

“You’re not very good at this whole ‘saving lives’ thing, commander.” You say to yourself, rather than to the man who is too far away to even receive the remark.

You swing your aching legs over and find yourself upright once more, albeit in somewhat of a heap. You attempt to stand, forgetting your hand in the midst of all that has happened, and end up falling right back down again. As you lift your head to attempt getting up again, a blood-stained hand is presented to you from a silhouette hovering over you.

Somewhat startled by this action, you reluctantly accept the help and you are pulled to your feet. The man does not release your hand however, and instead holds it as though preparing for a handshake.

 

“I gotta admit kid, you had me. I really thought it was all over until your freaky First Order guy plucked us outta’ the sky.”

You search the man’s face for mockery or sarcasm, but it is not there. Instead, you see eyes full of earnest respect, and you can’t help but return a small grin in response to his smirk.

“You gave me hell though, that’s for sure. You swing a sword like it’s no business, especially one so heavy like that.”

The man laughs lightly through his nose.

“You won’t believe me but I never did intend to kill you. Or him. Especially him, he would dice us all to pieces if we even tried it.”

You open your mouth to object, but the man releases your hand and makes exaggerated hand gestures.

“Come on, you probably would’ve survived that fall… Probably…”

 

“If you never wanted to kill us then why did you engage him in the first place?”

“’Cause we were lookin’ for you, Ten’s prodigy. We got some business I think you might be interested in. Rumours had it we could find you with the First Order, and whaddaya’ know? The damn commander just waltzes straight into our turf!”

The man begins to pace, and you struggle to everything in.

Did you just fight this man… for literally no reason?

“So why the hell did you fight me then!?”

“Slow down, I’m gettin’ to that, yeah? We were gonna comm the First Order and use this guy as leverage to get you here, but today’s just been our lucky day. You arrive just minutes later! But of course, we had to test you. Ten wouldn’t train just any whelp, and you passed with flyin’ colours. Ain’t that just great!?”

 

You feel rage building up inside of you. How dare they make a fool of you! You didn’t postpone making up with Kiirin for this bullshit!

Just as you reach your hands for the man’s neck a gloved hand seizes your wrist.

“Leave it, commander.”

 

You grit your teeth even harder and tense your hands until they shake, as though attempting to dispel your anger in another way. Finally, when you feel yourself cooling off, you feel the leather glove release your wrist and your arms fall by your sides.

“Kylo Ren, why have you come here?” Your voice escapes as the question you had been pondering on since before the fighting finally is said aloud.

“That is… It can wait. Finish your business here.”

Having said that, the commander turns sharply, his cape billowing with the bitter wind. Before he passes through the crowds of men, he adds without turning back;

“Get your wounds seen to as soon as possible, commander.”

And with that, Kylo Ren takes his leave of you. You cannot help but ponder as you watch him walk away why he had stayed so silent, watched your fight so closely without intervening until the end. That was a question for another time however.

 

It is ironic, you think again, that you had entered this fight intending to be his guardian and he leaves it yours.

 

“You.”

You advance on the man before you once again. He simply runs his fingers over the black stubble on his face as he awaits your next words.

“Who are you? And what job was so important that you had to go through such an eloquent scheme for?”

And at last, the man smirks wide. It is different to any expression he had offered so far. This grin was one that _knew_ you would be interested in what he had to say.

And he was entirely right.

 

“The name’s Marcus – your average mercenary… And I’ve got Ten’s co-ordinates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter is LONG!  
> I hope you survived reading the whole thing, let alone enjoyed it!  
> Originally, it wasn't planned to be so lengthy, but well... Once you start writing sometimes it's hard to stop.
> 
> Finally we get to see a bit more of Kylo Ren and Commander Y/N's relationship, with much more softer moments than before like him letting her fight what is essentially his battle for him, and then ending up saving her life!   
> There will be some interesting dynamics between the two next chapter for certain!
> 
> Also in this chapter we hear more about the mysterious man Ten and his relationship with Y/N. It seems like they are about to be reunited, but is everything as it seems...?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll try to update again soon!  
> Thank you as always for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks!  
> Until next time!


	10. Ten

**Chapter Ten:** **Ten**

Unable to avoid it any longer, it may finally be time to pursue Ten once more.

 

* * *

 

“You there. Medic.”

A modulated voice demands Duu Yan to stop where he stands. He complies, turning and addressing his superior in rank with a short nod.  
“Commander. How may I be of assistance?”  
It takes all of Duu Yan’s composure to restrain himself from arguing with the man over his own commander’s injuries. He knows this is something you would not want, and so for your sake, he is passive.

“I would like to know the whereabouts of your commander. She has taken something which does not belong to her.”  
Kylo Ren’s tone falls increasingly sour towards the end of his statement, and Duu Yan feels it unwise to enquire further as to what it is you have taken.

“If it’s commander Y/n that you’re after, then I’m afraid you just missed her. She left this morning with her apprentice on an intel mission to Girrn.”  
“Intel mission? Was the general informed of such?”  
Kylo’s tone is more accusing than questioning. He begins to stride further into the hanger and Duu Yan follows without need of a signal.  
“Of an intel mission? Yes.”

Unable to admit that you had not disclosed the actual location of nor sought permission for the mission, Duu Yan finds himself in a position of half-lies. The general had given you permission to seek intel last night after all. He was simply unaware of the fact that you would take up this allowance so soon.

The commander pauses briefly in his stride to request a ‘trooper prepare his ship for an outing.  
“And to that stone-cold iceberg of a planet? I find that difficult to believe.”  
Kylo Ren scans Duu Yan from head-to-toe in one swoop of his visor, before turning sharply and letting his cowl bellow briefly in the nautolan’s face. Discreetly spitting in irritation, Duu Yan ignores it and when he does not follow the commander this time, is summoned onwards with an irritable swing of the head.

“What is it that your commander believes she will find about the senator there, then?”  
“I could not tell you. I am but a medic, after all.”  
With this, the thunk of black boots signifies a stop in step as the two reach a particularly more modern and sleek ship than those they had passed by. Anyone who partook in the meeting the night prior could tell from Duu Yan’s words that he was still sulking from your brutally honest words.

“If you are dissatisfied with your position then you should take it up with your commander.”  
Kylo Ren does not mean to defend, simply point out the truth. With this in mind, he adds;  
“It is said that one should look upon one’s own faults before placing them upon others.”  
And with that he boards his ship, setting the co-ordinates for Girrn.

Duu Yan, meanwhile, does not need anyone to point out that the fault lies with him. It is only the unnecessary emotions that burden him which tell him it is not so.  
But he will suppress them again with time.

\- - -

“What’s in it for you?”

The man, Marcus, laughs in a way which could be mistaken as guarded before sliding the seat opposite you out from below the battered table and sitting before you.  
“I’m actually pretty shocked you wanted to sit down ‘n’ discuss this. I figured you’d jump at the chance to see ol’ Ten again, eh?”  
You feel the blood pool again at the bottom of your chin. You raise your hand and hold the back of it over the injury, figuring that rushing to treat it now would be pointless as it was already likely to scar.  
You’ve received more scars over the past few days than you have in a long time, you realise.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t offer you a med kit, did I?”  
With a flick of his wrist, one of the men from earlier leaves his position near the exit in search of one. You halt him with a slow raise of your hand.  
“It’s fine. This won’t take long.”  
“Oh?”  
Marcus leans forwards now, thoroughly engaged, and rests his chin on the bridge of his fingers in the same way you had seen Hux do before.  
“Clever girl. I knew you wouldn’t take long to come around. Then, for us, we-“  
“I decline.”

It takes what feels to be an eternity for the satisfied smirk on Marcus’ face to slowly fall into a frown, processing your words as though he never considered them to be a possibility.  
“…What?”  
“I said I decline. I have no interest in whatever you’re asking me to do.”  
As you rise from your seat to leave, wiping at your chin with your hand one last time, one of the other men in the room seizes your wrist in a threatening grip.  
“Hey now… Y/n… Hey… We’re all friends here, yeah? Aren’t you gonna at least hear your ol’ pal Marcus out?”

Marcus rises from his seat and approaches you with a slow and purposeful stride. You consider his eyes briefly but it is impossible to guess what he is thinking.  
“After all, I went through a hell offa’ time getting you here, yeah?”  
You attempt to tug your wrist free but your capture only tightens his grip and forces your arm behind your back, bent. You swallow hard to avoid the whimper that would have let itself escape your lips from the sharp pain; the burns from your scuffle with Kylo Ren were still fresh after all, and certainly not in the right condition to endure such roughhousing.  
Marcus, meanwhile, circles you twice in the same way an animal would stalk its prey. He knows he has you cornered. You know he has you cornered. You exhale, exasperated more so with yourself than him.

“Well then. Out with it. What do you want with Ten?”  
Before he can respond, you add;  
“I know that’s why you want to send me. He won’t answer to just anyone. You don’t need me, you need Ten.”

Smiling wide, Marcus laughs to himself in the least inward manner possible. He raises a hand to his mouth as though attempting to contain himself, but continues to guffaw anyways. When finished, he raises from his bent-over position and signals for his men to release you of their hold.  
Instant relief flood down your arm as it is set free. Unwilling to look weaker than you already have shown to be right now, you avoid stretching it and simply clench your fist repeatedly hoping to inspire feeling in it again.  
“I was right about you, girlie; ya’ got brains.”  
Marcus raises a finger to his temple and taps it in a teasing manner.  
“Gotta wonder why you ended up with Ten… Someone with brains like you usually ends up in the senate to rot away… Good thing you didn’t end up like that, eh?”  
You flinch.

Taking no notice, Marcus steps backwards to take you in fully for the first time.  
“You fought pretty well considering your injuries.”  
For the first time, you find yourself properly impressed by this man. You thought you had disguised your disadvantage well enough during your fight, but upon considering this though, you realise it is no coincidence that the arm you had been seized with was the one injured by Kylo.

“Your swings fell short on one side.”  
Marcus’ words take you away from your silent consideration, and you meet the man’s gaze head on.  
“Your parries were also weaker on one side than the other. You didn’t notice I was abusing that?”  
“I… I suspected it but…”  
“The heat of battle makes it difficult to form a counter plan, right? It’s something that comes with experience-“  
“No, it’s not that… Rather… You were swinging blindly… At first I thought it might have been your style of combat, but then I figured-“  
“You figured I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

Your shoulders slump slightly as you drop your guard slightly. Even now, replaying the battle in your mind, you could tell that Marcus had no intentions of taking your life. If he had wanted it, he would have set his men on you the moment you set foot on his turf rather than have them stand aside as you approached him.  
“I see. So then on the rooftop, it was not mercy but confusion that blinded you from victory.”  
You hesitate, feeling awkward at your thoughts being so casually laid bare, but nod in acknowledgement eventually.  
“Something… Something was already off from the moment I set foot here. Something is off. And the First Order is involved, is it not? There is no other way you could have found my whereabouts… And there’s no way that guy would have been here either…”

“Actually, ‘that guy’ came here looking for you. But regardless of that, what you say is true. We’ve temporarily aligned ourselves with the Order simply because our objectives seem to… align. We want the senator gone as much as they do.”  
“Looking for me? What business does the walking darkness have with me…?” You speak senselessly to yourself, completely disregarding everyone else in the room. “Is it about the sab-“  
“Are you even listening!? Look, forget the commander! Look here! Look at me! Listen to me, okay!?”  
Your shoulders are seized by Marcus and the sudden shock combined with his tight grip makes it impossible to swallow the yelp that escapes your throat. In response, Marcus drops your shoulders immediately, but the damage is already done. You clutch tight at your arm injury with your other hand, clenching your teeth and eyes tight in the hopes that the pain will seethe away quickly, but it does not comply. The pain becomes so overbearing that you forget Marcus and everyone else in the room and groan from the ache.  
“A-Ah… Sorry…” Marcus awkwardly raises both his arms, defeated, as he attempts to make amends. “Just... Listen… Listen to me.”

You roll your teeth over one another and manage to crack open your eyes just wide enough to properly address him. Once certain he has your attention, Marcus digs through his pocket and pulls out a rather beaten-up data chip. It does not seem unfamiliar to you, but you cannot place where in your memories the familiarity lies.  
You straighten up, as the pain gradually ebbs away to but another dull ache in your body, and extend your palm to receive the item from him. Once in your position, you bring it closer to your eyes to examine it, turning it over and rubbing your thumb over the small ridges.

“A client of ours asked us to get that to Ten. A very important client.”  
You slowly pull your gaze away from the chip and back to Marcus. Finally, some sort of tangible emotion shows in his eyes, and you can feel the urgency in his words.  
“Who?”  
“Can’t say. Client confidentiality and all that, you should know that well.” Marcus stretches, before leaning towards you, placing both hands on the table from before. “That thing looks pretty insignificant, but the man who asked me to get it to ol’ Ten was payin’ real nice – all in cash too. Figure it’s important of sorts.”

You clutch the chip tighter in your grip.  
“Guess from the urgency you haven’t been paid yet.”  
Marcus smiles, allowing for an airy laugh to pass his lips.  
“You guess correct. Haven’t got long left either, so do a pal a favour and help ‘im out, yeah?”

You hold your breath as you take a moment to consider the situation at hand. It was true that finding Ten was something you had planned to do sooner or later (albeit, you had hoped it were ‘later’). Exhaling hard and gazing down again at the chip in your palm, you furl and unfurl your fingers around it as you consider it carefully.  
There was this chip too; it felt familiar. No, it was a feeling more than just that; it was as though somewhere within your mind you definitely knew that this was not the first time you had held it in your hand. It was likely that the answer lay within those intangible memories you simply could not recall, and with that, your decision was made.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”  
As he leaps up almost instantly to thank you, you interrupt before he can speak, adding;  
“But on my conditions.”  
With somewhat less glee (though nonetheless visibly pleased) Marcus straightens himself up, dusting his front down from leaning on the dusty table as he nods.  
“Very well. I guess I do owe ya’ one. So then, said conditions are…?”

You pocket the chip into a small bag attached to your belt. Adjusting yourself similarly to how Marcus had done, you dust yourself off before meeting his eyes.  
“You and your men will no longer pilfer around ol’ Cal’s place.”  
Marcus lets out a wry laugh but nods fiercely in acceptance.  
“Very well. As you say, it will be do-“  
“And-“  
“And!?”

“And,” you reiterate, in a much more threatening tone. “And you will tell me about the man who gave this to you. Although you claim to be working in line with the Order’s goals, this hardly looks like something they couldn’t just do themselves. Besides, Ten would never align himself with the Order.”  
Marcus considers you.  
With another hand signal, his men leave the room.

“Alright listen. I’ll tell you what I know, but it isn’t much. I seriously don’t know the guy, and he didn’t seem like the kinda fella’ to be getting mixed up with the likes of you and me – no offence.”  
Seeing that his attempt to lighten the mood had failed, he clears his throat and continues.  
“He wore really old, bulky robes – I couldn’t see his face behind the hood of them. It was definitely some old guy though, from his voice alone he hadta’ have been way older than you and me combined…And…”  
Marcus averts his eyes from yours and does not return the gaze.  
“After telling us where the drop-off point was for our payment, he just… Disappeared. Vanished into thin air just like that, leaving behind that old robe and nothing else.”

This caught your interest immediately. Was this old man like the people you had read about in Ten’s picture books? Those who could use the Force, just as Kylo Ren could.  
What were they called again…?

“A Jedi…?”

The title escapes your lips before the thought registers in your head.  
Marcus’ eyes darken as he offers a small smile.

“The Jedi have been dead for years. Surely you know that best of all, Ten’s apprentice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! It's been an extremely long time right!?
> 
> I was browsing through my word processor and found an additional chapter I never posted for this fic so I figured I should share it with everyone who had supported the story!  
> I'm not sure if I will ever continue this fic (especially with a new fic on the way) but I might finish it after exams in Summer!
> 
> Thank you for supporting it even after all this time!


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